


welcoming gift

by aglowSycophant



Series: eight adapts to the surface and gets a girlfriend along the way [2]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: "chicken nugs do not fuck... eight's nugs however...", - my friend after reading chapter 7, Bathing/Washing, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Microwaves, No Smut, Nudity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sequel, Swearing, Trans Female Character, Vague Worldbuilding, Weekly (?) Updates, although thats to be expected, and i just hope and pray that theyre right, at least i guess its humor? people claim this is funny, fight scenes wooooo how i hate you, gets a little angsty towards the end, i wouldnt write them boning. not yet at least, idek if this is fluff, im never sure im just takin shots in the dark tbqh, like i just go off whatever everyone tells me, man i hate tagging things, oh i guess i should tag, slight touches of hurt/comfort, theres a lot of bad music (?) puns, you think i write this for the gays? ha! its for wetallica and also the gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aglowSycophant/pseuds/aglowSycophant
Summary: Eight’s been on the surface for a while now, and Pearl and Marina promised they’d throw her a party sometime to celebrate it. However… It’s been three months. And, well, Three is a little less than happy when she hears about it.





	1. In which Eight sucks at Monopoly

Ah, heck, Three’s adorable.

Loud? Yes. Grumpy? Yes. Unfortunately-yet-constantly smelling like sweat? Yes. Banned from multiple food establishments? Sadly, yes.

But... Also undeniably cute!! ... Even if she denies it all the time, like a complete and utter _butt._

Is it _wrong_ of Eight to think so? Definitely not. Especially when she’s in that, like, tired-but-too-stubborn-to-sleep state after she’s taken out her contacts and just wears her glasses, but they keep slipping down her nose and she gets grumpier and grumpier with how much she has to push them up. And then the grumpier she gets, the more she slouches, and her posture is _awful_ but that’s okay, kind of!! Not really... But she won’t fix it, ever, and Eight respects her decision. And by “respects her decision,” Eight means she absolutely disrespects it and wants Three to change so she doesn’t destroy her back at the tender age of eighteen and doesn’t end up looking like Mr. Cuttlefish before she’s even old enough to legally drink.

Three pushes her glasses up again and mutters a series of swears that Eight can’t hear too well. Still, it brings a smile to Eight’s face. Three, however, is doing the opposite of smiling, which is scowling, and before you say “The opposite of a smile is a frown!” Eight knows and doesn’t care. Her scowl and her resting face are two very similar things that most people would get confused, but Eight can tell the difference at this point. When she scowls, aka Right Now, she furrows her brow a little more, her pupils get a little smaller (Gods, Eight loves her eyes so, so much...) and she purses her lips a bit more. Oh, well, they’re moving a bit more now. Recently she’s started using lip balm, so they’re not nearly as chapped, and sometimes Eight can taste it when she kisses her. Three’s bought, like, a bunch of flavours that are all artificial but undeniably sweet, minus the mint one. Mint isn’t even that good, but Eight honestly doesn’t care when she has Three pinned against a wall or... Really any surface? Most... Surfaces? Maybe not a stove, and cars are awkward, but... Eh. When it comes to mint lip balm, she doesn’t care all that much. She doesn’t care about lip balm flavours in general, but it’s cute that Three thinks about buying them. Maybe it’s because she tends to bite them when she’s nervous or super pissed, but she doesn’t need so many, does she? Eight’s pretty sure she normally wears... Some kind of fruit most of the time. And, well, sometimes she makes Eight guess. (And if Eight purposefully guesses wrong so she can kiss her again? Her secret to keep!!)

But, see, now Eight’s curious. Is she wearing any right now? Would it be rude of Eight to try and find out? Ah, is Three saying something? Gods... What a _butt._ How... _Adorable._

She snaps her fingers a few times, getting Eight’s attention.

“Are you done staring yet?” she snaps. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh.” Eight laughs softly, feeling her face warm. “Sorry.”

“Fucking hell, you space out a lot.” Three hands Eight the set of dice.

Eight rolls and they loudly clatter against the coffee table - a three and four, so she moves seven spaces. Her little plastic game piece clacks with each movement.

“It’s not _my_ fault I’m so often enraptured with your _illustrious_ beauty.” She laughs again when she sees Three make a series of _very_ funny faces... In this exact order: shock, vague anger, shock again, and then wild confusion.

“Where the fuck do you keep _learning_ these things????”

“Four.” Three rolls her eyes. “Who else?”

She snatches the dice angrily. “I dunno, your moms?”

“Pearl never took theater. You know this.” A six - two threes. Three rolls again.

“I mean, I didn’t... But thanks.” An eight this time - two fours. “I’m going to fucking _scream_ if I get doubles again.” She passes GO and collects 20,000 C. Fake... C? “Speaking of, how are they doing?”

“They’re okay, I guess? I dunno,” Eight replies with a shrug, only to laugh sharply when Three rolls a two. Or... Snake eyes, if you prefer.

“Mother _fuCKER,_ ” she screams, slamming her fist against the table with a loud _thud_.

“Go to jail, you stinky baby.” Three gives her a glare that would scare the most hardened soldiers. Too bad Eight’s not a soldier anymore. “But, um, to answer your question, they haven’t been so busy lately. I think they might throw the celebratory party soon?”

“Party?” Three asks, dropping her little plastic boat in the orange section of the jail square. “What party?”

Eight rolls - five. She lands on Three’s property and slides her 15,000 C.

“Well, they said they’d throw me one once I got to the surface? Like, as a ‘Congrats, you survived!’ kind of party,” she explains. Three huffs and rolls an eleven. “They just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Eight. It’s been three months.” Eight nods. “They couldn’t fucking find time at _all_ during that time?”

“Well... They’re idols.” A three. Eight’s finally back on her own properties!! “They’ve been really busy lately...”

“I don’t care _how_ popular they are,” Three snarls. “They haven’t made _any_ fucking time for you?”

“Don’t be so mad...” she mumbles, knowing fully that telling Three to not be mad is like telling Pearl to not be loud. “They’ll do it eventually.”

“Eventually my _ass._ I’ll fuckin’ throw you a party if I goddamn have to.” Seven - three and four. She swears quietly as she shoves the dice into Eight’s hand.

“You don’t have to...”

“Yeah? Too fucking bad. I _want_ to.” She rolls her eyes. “You of all people deserve it. Saved the damn world, and they’re too busy to throw you a fucking party? Doesn’t even have to be grand or anything, just a cake and some small shitty paper hats and...” Her muttering grows angrier and quieter with each word. Eight rolls two fives and then rolls again, landing on Three’s property. Again. She gives her 5,000 C with the dice.

“Are cakes, like, a party thing..?”

“Sometimes.” Three finally rolls doubles and escapes the dark confines of Stinky Baby Jail. “I could probably make one...”

“You bake?”

“Eight. I work at a bakery.”

“Yeah, but... Four works as a professional turfer, and she’s not even that good at it.” Three snorts. “What? It’s true.”

“She’s better on the field, I’ll give you that...” Three rolls and lands on a railroad and hands Eight 25,000 C with a dramatic eye roll. “But yeah, I can bake... Sort of. I’m not, like, chef level, but it’s better than the boxed shit.”

“You can buy cake in a box?” Three visibly deflates.

“I hate rich people,” she states plainly. “But yeah, you can. It’s just the dry mix, though. They’re pretty shitty, but they get a little better when you add mayo.”

Eight sighs. “I thought you hated mayo?”

“I do.” What. “BUT, it adds moisture and you can’t taste it.”

“... I hate that,” Eight mumbles. “I really, really hate that.”

“I mean, it _works._ ” Three rolls her eyes. Eight rolls the dice and lands on Three’s property again. Jerk. “Still. I’ll... Fucking get something together for you.”

“Thanks, Three.” Eight gives her a small smile. “That means a lot to me.”

“... It’s nothing.” Her voice gets smaller and she quietly clears her throat, looking away.

“It really isn’t. I mean, you don’t even have to... Like, do anything. I don’t really need a party or anything like that, but... You seem adamant about it.” Eight plays with the dice in her hand. “Really, spending time with you is nice enough.”

Three goes silent. Eight wonders if she said something wrong.

“Sorry, I-”

“Don’t. I... You. You deserve nice things. And... I, y’know, it...” She clears her throat - louder, this time, and sniffs quietly. “Sorry.” Her voice wavers.

“Thank you, Three.” Three nods slightly and wipes away a tear. She always seems to cry whenever Eight’s just... Nice to her, which makes her wonder if any ever complements her at all. She never really understands why her girlfriend gets so emotional when it comes to these kind of things, though, but... Three will tell her whenever she’s ready, she's sure of it. “Do you want to stop playing for tonight?”

She nods again, reaching for the Monopoly box with their labelled plastic bags inside. Eight stops her hand with her own, and Three pulls hers away. She quietly sorts the pieces and money away, jotting down a few notes on which hotels and houses went where.

“Are you tired? Do you want to sleep?” Eight asks, putting the lid back on the box and sliding beneath the coffee table.

“Yeah, sure,” she mumbles. Three doesn’t say anything about the whimper in her voice, so Eight doesn’t either.

Glancing over at Three, she notes Three’s furiously typing _something_ on her phone, although Eight doesn’t know what. She finishes whatever she’s typing and then sets her phone down on the ground as it continues to charge.

Eight wants to ask what she typed, but, well... It doesn’t matter.

Honestly, just as long as Three’s happy... Eight can’t care too much.

* * *

It turns out it mattered.

“Hey, Eight?” Pearl asks as Eight sits down in the back seat of her car. “Do you want to explain why your girlfriend very angrily texted us about a party last night?”

“She... What?” Pearl holds up her phone, showing Eight the very vulgar and very angry messages Three bombarded her with. “Oh, Gods.”

“Did you... Mention one to her?” Marina asks, messing around with the radio. Pearl puts her phone down as she begins driving. “Since... I- We’re both... Very confused.”

“Oh, um...” Eight twirls one of her hoodie’s tassels. Is it still Three’s..? She never asked for it back... “You, um... Do you remember the, uh, ‘Congrats! You survived Kamabo!’ party you said you’d throw for me? Right, I offhandedly mentioned it and she got... Um... _Pissed._ ”

“What pa...” Pearl’s voice trails off and Marina voices the thought they’re probably both sharing: “Ah. Shit.”

“... Did you forget?” she asks, now tugging at the tassels.

“I, uh- No. Definitely not.”

“I... I don’t blame you if you did,” Eight admits. “I know you’re busy with Off the Hook and Inkopolis News, and you’re probably tired by the end of the day anyways, so...” Pearl looks a little upset, from what she can see in the rear-view mirror. Why? Did Eight mess up? “It’s fine, really. Three said she’d do something for me, anyways, although... I don’t really understand _why,_ but she really, really wanted to and-”

“Eight, we’re, um, working with Three! On that.” Marina starts frantically typing something on her phone. “Yeah.”

“... Okay?” Eight sighs quietly. “You don’t have to lie to me. Your lives come first. I’d probably forget, too.”

“NOPE!” Pearl says, making both Marina and Eight wince at her volume. “No, we, uh, didn’t forget. Not at all. We’re... We’re working on it!!”

“You know,” Eight starts, looking out the window, “You’re both really shitty liars.”

“... I’m sorry, Eight,” Marina mumbles. “We should have done it earlier.”

“It’s fine, really! You’ve done enough for me as it is, anyways...”

“No, it’s really not...” She sighs, switching the radio station.

“Reena, I _liked_ that song,” Pearl grumbles.

“Yes, Pearlie, and I like _hearing._ ”

“If you like hearing so much, why are you dating me??”

Marina goes silent. “... Sometimes people make bad decisions.”

“Oh, you know _damn_ well I’m not a _bad_ decision. I’ll prove it to you toni-”

“THAAAAAAAT’S ENOUgh now, dear, thanks.” Marina continues to switch through the stations before settling on some station that’s playing the same songs over and over again. “But, um, Eight... Do you have a favourite cake at all?”

Eight shrugs and then remembers no one can see it. “I don’t think so? Besides the ketchup cake... Or, like, mayo frosting.”

“... I _suppose_ I can see where you’re coming from.” Marina’s claws audibly tap against her phone screen. “Okay, okay. Sooo... Well, do you even... Like cake that much? Or do you like ice cream more?”

“Eh.” Eight makes a so-so gesture that no one can see, either. “They're okay?”

“... Well, we can get both.” Marina hums softly as she continues to type away.

“So... Eight! Is there anything in particular that you want?” Pearl asks, taking the opportunity to change the radio station to something that isn’t The Same Three Songs by Wet Floor: The Game. Eight quietly thanks her.

“Um... Well, I had a nice set of pens that ran out of ink?” She twirls a tassel around as she thinks. “And, um... One side of my headphones stopped working, so I only get sound in my left ear.”

“Eight,” Pearl starts, “You are both pathetically simple and disgustingly hard to buy for.”

“Well, I-” Eight sighs. “You know I don’t really _need_ much, and you’re already housing me as it is.”

“What do you want, then? Doesn’t have to explicitly be material.”

“I... Just want to spend some time with you all. That’s really it.” She sighs quietly. “You’ve been super busy following the NILS attack, and it’s hard to get all - or most - of my friends in one place. So... Yeah.”

“Okay...” Pearl goes quiet. A Chirpy Chips song starts playing while Marina’s loud tapping continues.

“We’ll get something together for you, I promise,” Marina tells her. “I wish you said something earlier, though...”

Eight nods absentmindedly, thoroughly done with this conversation. On one hand, it hurts a little, knowing they completely forgot about her, but... Well, they’re busy, and Eight has other friends, anyways.

Besides, she’s sure the party will go smoothly nonetheless. Assuming it... Even happens.

Her phone buzzes from a text from Four. _“Do you mind explaining why Three just threw her phone at the wall and yelled ‘I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HER PARENTS’?”_

 _“No,”_ she replies, then shuts her phone off and slams her head into the back of Marina’s seat.

No one questions it.


	2. In which Three gets a finger or four in her mouth

Three lets out a loud, annoyed groan as she begins to massage her temples. Four - whose lap she’s resting her head on - gingerly pats her face, which didn’t help the situation much. The thought counts, though, and Three can’t really bring herself to be mad at her.

But what she _can_ fucking be mad at are Eight’s parents. Her... Pseudo-parents? They’re not really _adoptive,_ but... Whatever. Fuck semantics and fuck Off the Hook. Three is incomprehensibly _pissed._ In an angry way. Moments earlier, she threw her phone at the wall of Four’s apartment with so much force that she thinks the screen cracked and died.

Like her roller... Which is still fucking broken. So what if it’s been a month? Three has other shit going on in her life. Shit like working with bitchy fifteen year-olds and _not committing murder._ The second thing is a little more achievable with Four, but only fucking barely. Three sent her an angry message or seven last night, and she woke up to a _“Come over and yell at me because you’re too stubborn to fucking see a therapist :////”_  today, so...

Yeah. Sometimes Three appreciates her shitty acquaintance, and sometimes Three wonders why her shitty acquaintance fucking lives in the same complex as her, but, like, three floors higher than her. Or, well... Fuck. She knows the reason, but she fucking chooses not to acknowledge it at all, ever, fuck you, why don’t we get back to the topic at hand here.

“So... Why are you killing Eight’s parents again?” Four asks, and then pauses. “Actually, does she even _have_ parents? Like, biological ones. Isn’t she from a tube or somethi-”

“The LESBIANS, Sarah,” Three snaps. “Fucking promised her a ‘Congrats! You fucking _lived’_ party after the _shitshow_ in Kamabo, and then _fucking_ **_forgot._ ** What the _fuck?_ So that already pissed me off on top of getting my ass thrown in Monopoly jail, but Eight and I fell asleep and I pretended to forget about it. She left this morning, and then not even three fucking minutes later I get a stream of _frantic_ fucking texts from Marina.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. Four coos a long series of gibberish as she continues to stroke Three’s face. “Like, oh, we forgot about this person that literally _saved our goddamn fucking lives,_ but youuuuu brought it up! Therefore, we’re gonna take _all_ the goddamn credit from you. But it’s fine, right?” Her voice grows more and more sickeningly sweet by the second. “We all _loooooove_ Eight so, so, SO! much, so it’s fiiiiine!!” She digs her nails into her cheek and snarls, “Even if we _fucking_ **_FORGOT_ ** about her.”

“They’re such assholes,” Four mumbles in the patronizing tone you use to speak to a dumb, idiot toddler. “Total dickbags.”

“Sarah. Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m _helping_ you, aren’t I?” She motions towards the large fuzzy blanket that’s covering Three. “But, like, actually though? That’s... Kind of fucked up.”

“And Eight’s, like, in denial about the whole forgetting thing??” Forcing some semblance of emotion into her normally flat voice, she raises the pitch a bit as she tries (and fails horribly) at imitating Eight. “Well, they’ve been _busy._ It’s okay! They’re _idols_ and _gay,_ which means it’s fine to _completely fucking_ **_forget_ ** _me._ ” She continues to dig her nails into her face until Four taps her hand twice and she relaxes a little. “I just. Can’t fucking _believe_ them.” She sighs. Four makes the mistake of thinking Three is done. “AND it’s not like they even have to do anything extravagant? She doesn’t need anything fucking _new,_ Pearl’s fucking loaded. Like, living-in-Sunset Court loaded. Just... Just a fucking cake or ice cream or pie or whatever the fuck and a candle or two and those shitty paper cone hats with the tinsel on them?? Invite some friends and just fucking hang out. I know that’s all she really goddamn _wants_ anyways.”

Four hums softly as she continues to pat Three’s face. A finger jabs Three in the beak. No one says anything about it.

“Have you told them that?” she asks.

“No,” Three grumbles. “I don’t even want to fucking _talk_ to them. Just fucking _thinking_ about it, it-” She inhales sharply and exhales dramatically. “UGH.”

“Ugh,” Four repeats, nodding. “So, what do you think we should do..?”

“I think,” she starts, “That we should find out when the shittier, less-fun party is happening, and then plan one she’ll actually like at the same time and get her to come anyways.”

“Summer. Summer, look at me.” Four pulls her hands away from Three’s face. “That is the _shittiest, worst_ idea I have _ever_ heard.”

“Then what do _you_ have in mind??”

“Attend the party,” she states plainly.

Three groans again and slaps Four’s hands back onto her face. “AWFUL,” she yells, voice muffled. “AWFUL SHITTIEST WORST IDEA _EVER._ ”

“How the fuck is that a bad idea???” Four rolls her eyes. “Just go there and be civi-”

“THAT’S THE FUCKING _PROBLEM_ ,” Three snaps. “It’s so _hard_ to be nice at my day job, so imagine how fucking shitty it’s going to be when I’m around people I can’t fucking _stand._ ”

“A wise man once told me, ‘kill ‘em with kindness,’” Four says sagely. Three let out a muffled noise of incomprehensible rage.

“Fuck that! I have _guns._ ”

“Guns don’t solve every problem.”

“Name one problem, Sarah. Name one problem.”

“Bad vision.”

“LASIK surgery.”

“Lasers aren’t guns, they’re gun _adjacent._ ” Four rolls her eyes. “Anyways. I think you should help them plan the party.”

“Whyyyy _yyyyyyy?????????_ ” Three doesn’t whine. Why would Three whine? That’s right. She fucking doesn’t, and fuck you, and fuck people, and die.

“One: Eight will be happy. Two: They're rich. Get them to pay you or something, I don't know. Three: Eight will be happy. Four: Imagine the food...”

“You... Make a good argument.” Fuck, when’s the last time she had any decent fucking food, anyways? Three practically lives off soggy fast food, at this rate. “Still... Do I _have_ to..?”

“Another thing a wise man once told me, ‘you don’t get pussy by being an asshole,’” Four says in the same sagelike tone. “Besiiiides, it’s for the food.”

“... God. I fucking love food,” she mumbles. “And- Y’know, Eight already tolerates me as the asshole that I am? I’ll fucking do it for food but I don’t have to be _nice_ about it.”

“But you’ll get pussy... There’s a difference between a girlfriend and some quality octopu-” Three takes Four’s hand in her mouth and bites down. Hard. “FUCKING SHIT, SUMMER, WHAT THE HELL??”

“‘e a’et,” she mumbles around the hand, tasting a little bit of ink. Four yanks her hand away and smears it on Three’s shirt. Which, 1: Gross, and 2: Yeah she deserved that but that doesn’t mean she likes it. “Be quiet,” she repeats.

“You’re such a dick sometimes,” Four grumbles.

“But you love me anyways.” Three places Four’s slightly-bloody hand back onto her face. Gross? Maybe. Does she care? Fuck no.

“You’re so _chompy,_ ” she mumbles, smearing ink on Three’s cheek. “If this fucking scars, I’m not talking to you again. I already have one _on my face._ ”

“I _said_ sorry!” She sighs. “It’s barely noticeable, anyways...”

“Marie won’t stop asking about it...” Four shudders. “God, I hope she doesn’t find out.”

“No one knows about it, right..?” She shakes her head. “See? We’re fine.”

Four sighs. “Still, getting back on topic... I think you should help them plan the party.”

“I think you should eat my piss and shit.” Four moves a hand away to glare at Three. Three claps it back onto her face. “Can you plan it with me at least???”

“No.” Fuck you. “I can stay with Eight and help her pick out... Party shit. Like, cake flavours and dumb party hats or something. No offense, but... Both you and her moms can be a little, uh, overbearing.”

Three rolls her eyes. “Consider my eyes _fucking_ rolled,” she mutters.

“They’ve been considered,” Four replies, slumping further into the couch. “But seriously, I think you’d stress her out with how mad you get. And... I know she thinks you’re cute when you’re mad, but there’s a limit to it, ya know?” Three did, indeed, know, and she nods in agreement. Unfortunately, nodding is hard with two hands on your face, so she gives a thumbs up which is immediately followed by the bird. “Oh, charming.”

“You know it.” Before either of them could continue, Three’s phone buzzes sadly on the floor, which is surprising considering both of them believed it died upon impact. She sighs. Four sighs. They all sigh. “... Can you get it?”

“Fuck no.” Three pulls a hand off her face to look at Four with sad, pleading eyes. “I said _fuck_ no.” Three shoves the other hand off her face and flails her way out of the fuzzy blanket. “Hey, while you’re over there, can you grab the tentacle oil?”

“Why the _fuck_ do you need tentacle oil now??” Three snaps, grabbing her phone and then blindly looks around for the clear bottle of oil. Finding it, she squints at the label. “... You got the fucking peach-scented one?”

“It was on _sale_ and if there’s one thing you know about me, it’s that I’m a _slut_ for _Bath and Body Works!_ ” she shouts, punctuating each syllable of ‘Bath and Body Works’ with a clap. “... It was that or Teakwood (High Intensity) and I don’t want to smell like someone who uses the _Dapples_ of all things.”

Three chooses to not grace her with a verbal reply and instead stares right into her sad, Bath-and-Body-Works-loving soul where all the clearance items go to die. It gets the message across.

“Okay,” she starts, “But why the fuck do you want it now?”

“To put it on you,” she replies and Three admits defeat. “You’re pissed, the text is probably going to piss you off, and your tentacles are dull and sad in the way that usually only happens when you’re wildly hungover.” Four pauses. “Actually, are you? That would explain a lo-”

“... I feel like you of all people should know when I’m hungover or not.” Plopping back onto the couch, she hands Four the bottle and lays back down, this time on her stomach. She shoves a pillow between her chin and Four’s thigh, and groans loudly when she sees the contact.

“Is it a lesbian?” Four asks as she pours some of the oil into her hand and begins to rub it on Three’s tentacles. Despite the fact that it smells like artificial ass, it’s not too bad. Small ripples of sea-green spread from the parts where Four touches.

“Of course it’s a lesbian,” Three mumbles. “All of my fucking friends are lesbians.”

“Justin’s not a lesbian.”

“Justin’s not my _friend._ ”

Four pauses. “Well, _I’m_ not a lesbian.”

“... Oh, right. I forgot about that.” Four snorts. “What? It’s not like you’ve dated anyone in a while, anyways.”

“Yeah, okay, I know I’m an ince-”

“You have _,_ like, _five_ people who all want to date you at _least._ ”

“... Right, but they’re gross. Like, Derek-is-my- _first-_ choice gross.” Three shudders. “Yeah. Anyways... Did Off the Moms text you?”

“Yeah...”

 **Marina, 11:41 AM:** Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you help us with Eight’s party? ;w; We were planning on having it today or tomorrow or something;;

 **You, UNSENT:** Hey I’m sorry to bother you but would you eat my piss and shit? ;w;

“Don’t send that.” Three rolls her eyes and starts to relax again as Four continues to spread that shitty peach shit all over her head. A small squeak escapes her lips when Four reaches one of the tiny ones on the back of her head. “Sorry, does that hurt?”

“Just surprising.” Four makes an ‘mh’ noise and keeps going. “So... You want me to agree?”

“Yep!” she replies, popping the ‘p’. “Just be civil.”

 **You, 11:43 AM:** Of course I’d be happy to help

 **Marina, 11:43 AM:**!! Really?? Thanks so much!!! c:

 **You, 11:43 AM:** Yeah totally

 **You, 11:44 AM:** What do you need me to do?

 **Marina, 11:44 AM:** Aaaa ty!!!!! :’>

 **Marina, 11:44 AM:** Could you help us with food preparation?

 **You, 11:44 AM:** Its a 3 person thinhjgjjjdjwhsws

“Sarah!” Three snaps at Four wrenches the phone from her hands. “What the fuck, dude?”

 **You, 11:44 AM:** Yeah, I will. It’s fine

 **Marina, 11:44 AM:** Um... Are you okay?

 **You, 11:44 AM:** Yep I’m fiiifjbzbxx

“I’m _helping_ you.” She sighs. “Fucking hit the TTS button.”

“Okay? And?? You’re getting oil everywhere.” She swings for it again and misses.

 **You, 11:45 AM:** Sorry, I dropped my phone again, I’m just clumsy todayzxx god damn it you keep hitting the button I don’t give a shit give it back you fucker no fuck you don’t you bite me oh my god here let me hit cancel fucking shit

 **Marina, 11:47 AM:**.

 **Marina, 11:47 AM:** Do you need any help??

Three slams her palm into Four’s chin and gets her phone back.

“Asshole,” she snarls.

“Dickweed.”

 **You, 11:48 AM:** Sorry 4 stole my fucking phone again

 **Marina, 11:48 AM:** Does that happen a lot??

 **You, 11:48 AM:** Sort of

 **You, 11:49 AM:** I know she’d love to help though

 **Marina, 11:49 AM:** Ooh would she??? That would be really great!! (ノ^o^)ノ

Three suppresses a gag.

“What’d she say?” Four asks, peering over her shoulder. Nosy bitch.

“It’s one of the tiny fucking Anglerian emote guys,” she mumbles, turning the phone to show her. “What do you bet she owns a body pillow?”

“Um...” Four’s voice trails off. “Don’t you _also_ own body pillows? As in _multiple?_ ”

What the fuck. How does she know about those??? She _shouldn’t???_

Three panics inwardly.

“No?” she snaps, and then fucking realizes her defensiveness is evidence against her. “I don’t own any body pillows. Why the fuck would I own a body pillow? I’m not a _weeb._ ”

“... Summer,” Four says with a small sigh. “You know how many times I’ve looked for towels in your place, only to find the world’s saddest, most-crumpled up form of Splatsune Minku?” Three freezes. “Look. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell anyone about...” She pauses for dramatic effect. _“It.”_

Ah. It.

“No. I promise, I won’t.” Three means it. Her lips are fucking _sealed_ as long as it means no one fucking knows about Splatsune. “Just- Fuck, don’t tell Eight.”

“I don’t think Eight’s the type to judge... She seems too nice for that, y’know?” Three nods. “I think you’d have to worry about Marie, if anything.”

“Mh. Yeah, okay, I guess. Just... Don’t fucking tell her, either. Don’t tell anyone.”

“How many do you have, anyways?” she asks, squishing one of the ends of Three’s larger tentacles as she talks. “So far I’ve seen Splatsune and, like, one of the yellow ones?”

“... You mean Krakengamine?” Four snorts. “ _What?_ That’s her _name._ ”

“You fucking loser,” she mutters, giving her head a pat. “Anyways, yeah, Marina probably does.”

Three nods. “Definitely.”

 **You, 11:52 AM:** Yea she said she’d like to take 8 out to look at shit

 **Marina, 11:52 AM:** Oh, sure!! That way it can be more of a surprise!! ,,>v<,,

 **You, 11:53 AM:** Right when do you want us over

 **Marina, 11:53 AM:** Will 1 work?

“Will you be ready by 1:00?” Three asks.

“I’m _literally_ already ready.”

 **You, 11:53 AM:** Yea

 **Marina, 11:53 AM:**!!! Awesome, I’ll tell Pearl + Eight c:

Three leaves her on read.

“Hey, Sarah?”

“Hm?

  
“I fucking hate you,” she deadpans, shoving her phone against the couch and burying her face in the pillow.

* * *

 

Four insists on leaving at 12:10 because the drive is thirty minutes, which sometimes means it’s forty minutes, and how _dare_ they be late. Three insists on making Four drive, because she doesn’t fucking want to go, and if Four wants her there so badly, Four can fucking take her.

Unfortunately, because it’s Four’s car, Four has control of the radio. Which sucks because Four has the shittiest awfulest _worstest_ taste in music known to cephalokind.

“Please,” she begs, “Please stop fucking playing Carly Mantaray.”

“Nope!” Four replies cheerily, pressing the rewind button. Three groans loudly as Warm Ink starts to play.

Again.

For the fifteenth _fucking_ time.

“Why do you even like her so much??” she almost whines. “It’s overproduced pop _garbage._ ”

“... Don’t fucking insult Carly in my _damn_ car.”

“Have you seen her fucking bangs??? They’re like sad fucking curtains.”

“Summer, she literally has the same fucking haircut as you.” Three sputters wildly because that’s rude and also not fucking true. “Don’t make broken garbage disposal noises at me. You’re just mad because...” Four pauses. “Actually, why the fuck _are_ you mad?”

“Because she _SUCKS._ ” Four rolls her eyes. “Keep those fuckers _still._ ” She rolls them again. “... Bitch.”

“You know it.” She hums to the tune of the song as Three continues to slump further into the seat. “Hey, you got their address?”

“Yeah.” She tells Four without checking it. Four blinks with _emphasis,_ and Three sighs. “Just make a left.”

They go on like that for a little bit - Four driving shittily and almost killing everyone while Three drones instructions, and they end up at their place a little earlier than expected.

“... Can we stay in here and wait until 1:00?” Three pleads, glancing at the clock. 12:47 - she could _totally_ handle listening to Carly Mantaray for thirteen minutes compared to the alternative.

“Don’t be a baby,” Four mutters with an eye roll. She pulls out her keys and Carly stops singing. Three groans loudly and slumps further into the seat. “... Don’t you want to see Eight, at least?”

“I saw her this morning. I can live.”

She snorts. “What, are you sick of her already? It hasn’t even been a month.”

“I- No, I just...” Three sighs. “... I really fucking think I’m going to kill her moms. Her... Fake moms. Marina’s fucking _younger_ than her. Her mom and shitty sister, or... No, are they dating? I think they’re dating. Do you know if they’re dating? Maybe I should ask... Fuck, what if they’re not, then I’ll look fucking creepy, and, _ugh,_ can we please chill in here for ten years???”

“... Man, you really fucking hate them, huh?” Three nods. “I’ve seen you ramble like this exactly... Like, ten times in twelve years of knowing you?” That’s an exact number. Does... Does Four fucking keep note of her nervous goddamn rambling? What the shit. That’s fucking weird, like, Marie has her Agent 4 Factopedia, does Four have an Agent 3 Factopedia? God, that’s an awful idea, Three would rather die than have her own Factopedia, like, not that she hates herself, okay, she does, but like she’s not, like, _obsessed_ with herself, y’know?, and that would be fucking. Weird. As shit. Shit and ass. Shass. Shiass. Like Four _definitely_ knows enough about her to make a Factopedia and oh fuck, aw tits, would she make a page based off her nightmarish middle school years? God. If she fucking does, Three is either ending it or legally changing her name and moving to... Fucking _somewhere._ An- “Summer. Summer, you’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“You nervous-mumble your thoughts sometimes. It’ll be _fiiiine,_ c’mon. It’s one day.” Four gives her a smile. “You know how many days you’ve lived through already?”

“A fe-”

“Six-thousand, nine-hundred and three.” What the fuck. Why the fuck do you know this. What the absolute turtle ass. “... Look, I keep track of shit, okay?”

“Do...” Her voice is small. Much smaller than she wants it to be. “Do I have a Factopedia..?”

“... Well, I wouldn’t call it that,” Four states and Three feels her ink run cold. “But where do you think Marie got the idea from?”

She’s sure she looks nothing short of fucking _horrified._

“Whyyyyy don’t we,” Three starts, hastily unbuckling her seatbelt and scrambling for the car door, “Go and say hello to everyone?”

“I thought you wanted to stay in here?”

“People change,” she replies hastily, slamming the door shut behind her. Four yells something at her that she doesn’t catch, but she flips her off either way.

Four gets out of the car and calls, “God, you’re such an asshole sometimes!”

“Sometimes?” she shoots back with a sharp laugh.

“All the time!”

“Yeah, can’t argue with that.” Three stops walking to let Four catch up to her. “So... Like, what are you doing, exactly..?”

“Eh, I’m gonna take Eight shopping. Buy a decoration or fifty that she likes, some snacks or a movie or something, uh... A gift, maybe. You want me to pick something up for you?”

“Uh... No, it’s fine. We’re just planning it today, right? I don’t care how fucking powerful those lesbians are, there’s no way in fuck that thing’s gonna also be today. I can just pick something up for her tomorrow.” Four shrugs and makes a very neutral noise of acknowledgement.

They reach the door and Three absolutely ignores the knocker and decides to just knock using her fist as loudly as possible. Four winces.

“Won’t that brui-”

“Bruising is for pussies,” she replies, mashing the doorbell after two seconds. “So I don’t do it.”

Someone inside yells “COMING!” but the house doesn’t fucking quake where it stands, so it’s probably Marina. Just to be an ass, Three presses the doorbell once more.

The door opens and they’re greeted by Marina, who is noticeably out of breath.

“Hi,” she breathes. “Come in!”

They walk in, and Three remains relatively neutral towards all the fancy fucking decor while Four absolutely loses her shit.

“Dude,” she whispers. “Is that a fucking gold-plated Splattershot???”

Marina nods. “Pearl, um... She’s rich.” No shit. “Do you want me to go get Eight for you?”

“Yeah,” Three replies, shifting slightly and pulling out her phone. Checking the time, it’s a wonderful 12:54. She should have fucking stayed in the damn car. God, just _being_ here fucking sucks. It’s so fucking _rich._

Marina pulls out her phone and dials her - fucking _dials_ her, what the hell????? - and starts talking in rapidfire Octarian. Three understands exactly none of it. Marina sighs and says one last thing and then hangs up.

“She’ll probably be down in five minutes or so,” she tells them. “Gods, I hope she doesn’t hurt herself...”

“... Why would she?” Three asks, narrowing her gaze. Is Eight... Okay?

“She’s just excited to see you again. I don’t think she has in a month or so.”

“Oh, yeah... I’ve been pretty busy with Ranked tournaments, my bad.” She laughs a little. “It’ll be nice to see her again! I think the last time we got together, like, just as the two of us, was... Before she started dating Su- Three.”

“Ooh, I remember your matches!! We did commentary for a few of them!” Marina presses her hands to her face with a large smile. “Aaaah, that last match in the Starfish Tourney was really fun!”

“Hell yeah, it was a pretty good match,” Four agrees, grinning. “But of course we’d win. No one can beat the Calamari Crew!” Quietly, she adds, “I came up with the name when I was fifteen, okay..?”

Marina nods. “Oh, I understand! I like the name, though. It adds charm!! And, say... You took a break a few months back, right? Was that because of the NSS?”

Four visibly tenses and Three decides it’s time to intervene.

“Yes, it was, but really, can you talk some other time? Please?” She takes Four’s hand, balled into a fist, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “So, uh, Four. How long will you have Eight?”

“Uh...” She pauses. “I don’t know. A few hours, maybe? Why?”

“... Not sure. Maybe we wanted to make it a surprise, or something.”

Marina’s face lights up again. “Oh, that’s a really good idea!! I like that!! But, um, aren’t you taking her to go pick out decorations and stuff?”

Four swears quietly. “I’ll, uh... Keep her busy, if anything?”

Marina nods. “Sure, sure!!”

Phew. Three does _not_ want to deal with the Four Joined The NSS Shitshow right now.

Before any of them could continue, Three hears loud thudding down the stairs. Looking over, she sees Eight absolutely fucking booking it. It is immediately followed by a loud yell from Pearl, presumably, and Eight yells something back. That being said... She isn’t nearly as loud.

Four beams and gives her a wave, while Three smiles. Oh, hey, Eight isn’t wearing Three’s jacket for once. That’s neat. It probably smells like shit. How often does Eight even wash the damn thing anyways? Like, sure, it smells like Three, but it also smells like ass. Should she just buy a new hoodie and wear it around for a bit to let Eight steal? Is that weird? That’s probably a little weird.

Fucking... Whatever. Three can fucking worry about that some other time. There’s an entire fucking party to plan (Fuck you, Four) and Three will see that through to either its end or _her_ end.

God, she just hopes it turns out alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so excited for this school year to be over....  
> unrelated but i got 2 modes to rank s!!! still a long road to x but im proud


	3. In which Eight is confused about a few things

Nngh. Today hasn’t been the best, and it’s barely 12:50. Stupid parties and junk. Eight’s not really sure what a party even  _ is _ \- movies make them out to be, like, loud and flashy and full of substances of various legalities, but how do you even plan that? And, you know, why would you  _ want _ that? It just seems like a lot, in her opinion.

But what does Eight know, right? And on a much more unrelated thought, what even is the legal drinking age in Inkopolis, anyways? Back in the Domes, she thinks it was twenty-five or so, but Pearl has wine in the kitchen that she uses to cook with, and Pearl’s only twenty-one...

Speaking of, Pearl kinda ran off the moment they got home. Probably something to do with the party, because she’d been a little antsy ever since Eight mentioned it. She’s not really sure  _ why,  _ still, since it was pretty apparent they forgot about her and it’s fine, honestly! Eight doesn’t really remember what a party is, so it’s not like she really misses it, and... Judging by the movies, she’s not missing much.

... Well, okay, it still kind of stings. Sure, Pearl and Marina have been busy, yes, but-

Her phone rings.

{Hello?} she answers, not bothering to check the caller.

_ {Eight, hey!} _ Oh, it’s Marina. Speak of the devilfish, maybe?  _ {Yeah, um... Three and Four are here.} _

{Oh, are they?} Eight checks the time - it’s not even 12:55 yet. They’re early, she guesses, and... Well, Eight’s not the readiest. {You said Four’s taking me out, right?}

_ {Mhm, and we’re keeping Three here.}  _ Eight nods.  _ {Come down whenever you’re ready, okay?} _

{Um... Marina? What do I... Wear?} she asks. As it stands, she isn’t really dressed to meet them. Or, um, she isn’t very dressed in the first place. To be honest, Eight’s only wearing a pair of shorts since she threw Three’s hoodie in the wash. {It’s not a formal outing, right?}

_ {Oh, Eight...}  _ Despite not being able to see her, Eight pictures Marina shaking her head as she sighs.  _ {It’s not, don’t worry. Just, y’know, be clothed, ‘kay? See you soon!}  _ Without another word, Marina hangs up.

Eight sighs. She loves her and all, but wow, she’s awful at clarifying things. Pearl talks... A bit much when she’s on the phone. Marina talks too  _ little  _ and it sucks!!!!

Well... Whatever!! Eight will just. Wear clothes, or something. Yeah. Take that. ... Even though Three probably wouldn’t mind if she walked down like this. Once Three walked in on Eight changing and she turned such a lovely shade of marigold and only spoke in awkward stammers for the next, um... Hour. But, well, she just feels it’s probably not appropriate to just walk out with a pair of shorts on. And... Eight’s going out with Four today, right? Four probably would appreciate Eight wearing clothes. ... Then again, maybe not.

With a small sigh, Eight gets up and starts digging through her dresser to find... Something. Anything. She settles on a tank top because it almost goes with her shorts and she doesn’t feel like changing out of them. And... Y’know, boots have never betrayed Eight. Sneakers - or tennis shoes, if you’re Three - make her feet feel... Naked. Is that the right thing to say? Maybe not. Sandals are  _ dumb.  _ There’s nothing like a nice pair of boots, after all. Just a nice, good pair of clunky boots. Clomp clomp and such.

She quickly checks that her belongings are in her bag before throwing it over her shoulder and leaving the room.

Eight walks down the stairs at a brisk pace, which Pearl probably doesn’t like because she yells at her to slow down. {Sorry!!} she yells back, not especially sorry at all.

Sure enough, Marina, Three, and Four are all downstairs, waiting. Four waves at her and Three grimaces.

“Oh, there you are,” Marina says. “... You’re wearing  _ that?” _

“... Yes,” Eight responds slowly. “Why?”

“It’s a little cold out, that’s all. Do you have a jacket or something?”

Eight shakes her head. “No, it’s in the wash.”

“Eight, are you telling me you didn’t think of buying any jackets at all while we were shopping?” Marina furrows her brow. Ugh. Marina can be such a  _ Nurser _ when she wants to be. At least Pearl’s, like, casual about it.

“I’m  _ sorry  _ no one thought to explain  _ seasons  _ to me,” Eight snaps. “You know Dome temperatures are regulated...” She glances over at Three and Four. Four looks a little amused while Three is some mix of angry and  _ flabbergasted. _ It’s kind of funny, she must admit.

“Are you  _ shitting _ me?” Three growls. “I’m literally- My fucking  _ name _ is a season, you didn’t think to fucking explain that??”

“... Um, Three?” Eight asks quietly. She looks over. “What... What  _ is  _ your name?”

“You never fucking told he-”

“Shit!!” Three swears, cutting Four off. “Yeah, it’s, uh. It’s Summer.”

“Wait. That was  _ you?? _ ” A week or so ago, Eight stopped by Oceanside Café, hoping to find Three there. And, well, she wasn’t - or, Eight  _ thought _ she wasn’t - but the barista there was, um... Quite, uh... Touchy-feely? Is that even the way to describe it? Maybe not. Maybe just flirty, or something like that. She was also familiar in a way Eight couldn’t place. She also wrote  _ Do you want to go out for dinner tonight? - Summ3r  _ on it and oh, what the  _ fuck,  _ she wrote- She wrote Summ **3** r on it. Fucking. Eight thought she wrote the ‘E’ backwards or something, but- Dear Gods. Three also seemed  _ very  _ amused when Eight told her about it later that day, but... “Why didn’t you tell me?????”

“Eight, I couldn’t have made it more fucking obvious!! I- Literally the only things I changed were my ink color and putting my tentacles up in a bun. That’s- That’s fucking  _ it.”  _ She rolls her eyes, struggling to fight the grin off her face. “You... I was literally wearing the same thing as the time we made out on my couch.”

_ “Which _ time??”

“The  _ first _ one!!!”

Four and Marina share a glance. 

“Are... Are you hearing this?” Four mumbles.

Marina sighs. “Yeah.”

Eight sighs dramatically and glares at  _ Summer, _ who’s grinning in a manner that can only be described as shit-eating. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Why am I a jerk? It’s not my fault you can’t recognize my face.” She shifts, checking something on her phone before shoving it back into her pocket. “Seriously, you’re always talking about how pretty my eyes are and then you can’t recognize me with a different hairstyle.”

“... I mean, I thought it was you until you spoke.” Eight rubs at her arm. “Your voice was too lively, so...”

Four laughs loudly. “Fuck, really? That’s- That’s so on-brand, I- Holy shit...”

Three’s face flushes as a ripple of green spreads from the tips of her tentacles. “I- Fuck you.”

“Maybe later,” Eight replies without thinking about it. Three sputters wildly. “Um, so... Not to change the subject or anything, but what are we doing, exactly?”

“Well,” Marina starts with a small sigh, reminding everyone of her presence, “You and Four are going... Out. Shopping for decorations and the like, I guess? I’m not too sure.”

Four nods. “Yeah, yeah. It’ll be fine. You guys are working on the everything else, right?”

“Mhm.” Marina nods. “Do you know what time you should be back?”

“Eh.” Four makes a so-so motion with her hand. Eight decides that it means none of this was actually planned. “Maybe 4:00, maybe 5:00? I’ll call you when we’re about to come back.”

“Oh, alright! I think that should be enough time...” Marina types something on her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. Now that Eight thinks about it, everyone seems to have pockets. If only someone explained seasons to her, but she doesn’t  _ care _ why would she care, that’s right, she doesn’t, because she has  _ never _ cared  **_EVER_ ** **_BWAHAHAHA_ ** .

(Eight cares profusely.)

“Yeah, sure. We’ll see you around.” Four gives them a small wave.

“Don’t fucking crash the car because you’re too busy listening to Carly,” Three grumbles. Who... Who is Carly???? “And, uh, Eight. Have fun, I guess.” A few muddy brown blotches form at the ends of her tentacles. Too bad Eight has no idea what they might mean. Three does look a little angrier than usual, so Eight opts to give her a farewell hug.

“I’ll see you later, Summer,” she coos into her ear. Three responds by briefly choking on air. Eight pulls away. “... Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fuckin’- Fucking peachy, thanks.” She coughs twice into her hand and then makes an ‘OK’ sign. “I’ll. Yeah. Have. Have fun.”

Marina cocks an eyebrow. “Ummmm, right... Stay safe, please? Have fun, don’t break the law.” She grows more serious as she tells Eight the last part. {And... Please don’t hurt anyone, okay? Promise me that.}

Eight fights the urge to roll her eyes. {Yes, Marina, I promise I won’t kill or seriously injure anyone. You... You know I haven’t in a while.}

She sighs. {I... Yes, okay, but...} Marina shakes her head. “Just- Please be careful.”

“Right.” Eight turns to a very visibly confused Four. “So... Are we going?”

“I, uh- Yeah. We’ll... See you around, I guess?” Four starts heading to the door. Eight follows her. “Bye..!”

Three and Marina call one last goodbye at them before they leave.

“So, uh...” Four fishes for her keys in her bag. “... What was that about?”

“It’s stupid,” Eight mumbles. “She’s just worried about stupid things. I don’t think she understands that...” She sighs, digging her claws into the palm of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” Eight tries her best to smile convincingly at Four. She’s sure it doesn’t reach her eyes, but Four buys (or pretends to) it at the very least. “If you don’t mind me asking... Who is Carly?”

Four pauses and furrows her brow as she unlocks her car. “... Oh! Oh, Carly Mantaray. She’s a music artist that Three hates since she ‘is just another overproduced garbage pop sensation’ or whatever.” She rolls her eyes as she gets in. “I don’t think she can listen to anything that isn’t classic rock or metal.”

“... Why would that make you crash the car?”

“I... Get enthusiastic.” Four clears her throat. “Anyways, you wanna hit up Arowana or The Reef first?”

“Hit..?” Preferably, Eight would enjoy hitting neither with a car. “... I’m sorry?”

“Oh, uh... Which would you rather go to first, I mean.” Oh. Ohhhh. Okay. That makes sense.

“Whichever one is closest, I guess?” Four nods absentmindedly and puts the keys in the ignition. The moment she does, some pop song starts  _ blasting  _ and Eight shrieks.

“Shit! Shit, sorry, sorry, are- Are you okay??” She turns it down until it’s barely audible. Eight gives her a look that’s part fury, part malice, part “what the hell” and gives her a thumbs-up. “Sorry, sorry...”

“Why,” Eight says after a ten-second pause, “Are you playing music so loud?”

“... I’m gay?” she offers. Eight gives her a thumbs-down. “Yeah, I... I can’t argue with that.”

She takes a deep breath. “Which one is closest?” she asks instead of punching her.

“The Reef, I think.” Four finally starts driving. Eight turns to look out the window.

_ Warm ink, underneath my skin, _

_ Warm ink, my hearts are pumping, _

_ Warm ink, underneath my skin, _

_ Warm ink, my hearts are pumping... _

* * *

 

It doesn’t surprise Eight that they got lost. The only surprise is how long it takes them to get there. (Which, for those wondering, is twenty-three minutes and forty-two seconds, but hey, who’s counting?) The Reef itself happened to only be a whopping five minutes away, but at least Eight now knows all the lyrics to Warm Ink.

“So...” Four’s voice trails off as she looks up a map of the shops. “We’re close to Party Atlantis right now. All the stores are open till 5:30, so we have time.”

Eight nods, looking around. The last time she was at The Reef was, um... A while ago. A pretty long while ago. (That is, if you count the actual location. The replicas used for turfing in Deca Tower were frequented by her, if frequented meant ‘she went there two weeks ago because she didn’t feel like being left alone at the house.’) “What kind of things do they sell there?”

“Like... Party decorations and stuff. That’s probably not super helpful, but that’s, like, the only way I can describe it.” Party decorations and stuff. Wow, Eight wouldn’t have ever guessed. “Oh, and since Splatoween is soon, there’s costumes and stuff for sale. They’re pretty cheap, though.”

“... Splatoween?” Eight’s heard the term tossed around a bit, but she never actually bothered to look into it. “What is that?”

“Originally, I think it was a tradition to keep the Elder Gods away, or something? Now it’s a holiday that’s roughly two days long. You dress up and parade around town, and you can get candy and stuff. That, or you could be a bitch and trick people.” She shrugs. “I’m not super religious, so...”

“The Elder Gods?” she repeats. “In the Domes, our religion was centered around them. Are they, like, bad here?”

“... Well, I don’t really think I’m the person to ask, but...” Four thinks for a moment. “They’re not necessarily bad. I don’t really know what they stand for, though. In Atramentos, the religion’s mainly centered around Tatzelwurm, Altamaha-ha, and Banaspati. They’re, like, the big three, I guess.”

“... The Elder Gods were centered around the arts, I think. We mainly worshipped Cthulhu. He was the god of music and literature. Or, no, that... That was the Ravine, I think..?” Eight pauses to think. “... It’s hard to remember.”

“That’s... Interesting. We think of him as a chaos god up here, if I remember correctly.” She sighs. “Now that I think about it, it’s probably due to racism from the Great Turf War.” Yeah. That makes sense. They approach the Party Atlantis. The sign is in a happy, rounded font, although it flickers slightly. It also looks pretty packed. “So. We’re here!”

Eight gently grabs Four’s hand. “Crowds,” she mumbles, and Four nods. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool. I understand.” After grabbing a basket, Four leads her through the sea of people. How could a store even fit so many??? Maybe they picked a bad time to do this... Eight thinks she sees a few Splatoween decorations. One is a skeleton of some kind of fish. The other is the most anatomically incorrect inkling she’s ever seen, mostly because it’s... A skeleton. Inklings (all cephalopods, actually) kind of have exactly zero bones, let alone enough to make a skeleton out of. Some child squeals and asks its caretaker to buy it. She tells it no, and it starts wailing. Four and Eight start walking a little faster.

Turning the corner, Four briskly walks down the aisle and stops at the very back of the store. It’s a little less crowded here, although the child is still sobbing.

“Welcome to the sad party decoration section! Take your pick,” Four announces while striking a dumb pose. Eight blinks, then looks at Four, and then over at the wall of stuff, and then back at Four.

“I don’t know what any of this is,” Eight deadpans. Four’s face flushes.

“Ah. Shit. Right, uh.” Clearing her throat, she picks up a pack of something... Rubber. “These are balloons. You can blow them up with air and knock ‘em around a bit, but then they pop and they’re not very useful after that.” She puts them back. “I wanna get the helium ones.”

“Helium..? I don’t understand, what’s the difference?” Balloons are balloons, aren’t they? Or- No. This is the surface. So... Of course not. They’re probably like blasters, as in there are fifteen hundred million of them and each and every single of them suck. That, or they’re like... Eight doesn’t know, most shooters? As in... Utterly redundant and unnecessary? Ah, but... Blasters are shooters, right? ... Whatever.

“Helium ones float. Ones with air in them just kinda... Sit there.” Oh. Oh! That makes sense. That makes them exactly not like blasters or shooters at all, because there is a clearly defined better one. “Also, if you suck the helium out of them, your voice gets high-pitched and funny. Don’t worry, you can’t get high off it.” She chuckles darkly. “I’ve tried.”

“... What?” One: Is helium safe..? Two: What does ‘getting high’ even mean, and why would Four try it????? “I-  _ What?? _ ”

“Did Off the Moms not explain that to you, either?” Eight shakes her head ‘no.’ “Damn. What are they even teaching you..?” She clears her throat. “Well... Maybe it’s better that you don’t know.”

“Is it... Bad..?”

“Again, I don’t think I’m the person to ask, but...” Four pauses and looks Eight over. “... For you, probably. Can’t really say.”

“Oh, is it sort of like being drunk?” she asks. Four’s eyes briefly widen and then she nods. “... Cool. I don’t think I’m old enough to drink.”

“... Aren’t you nineteen?” Eight nods. “Yeah, no, you’re old enough. What was the age down there?”

“Twenty-five.” Four whistles lowly. “That was also the average life expectancy, but... No correlation, right?”

“Goddamn...” Four puts the balloons back on the shelf. “Well, uh... Here.” She snatches a bag of... Cones????? “These are party hats.”

“That’s a traffic cone, Four. Don’t lie to me.” Four shakes the package a little. “It doesn’t matter how much you shake them, they’re still traffic cones.”

Four looks over her shoulder briefly before tearing the package open. She pulls a cone out. It seems... Cheap. Just a sad roll of paper with a little tinsel at the top and an elastic string at the bottom. “Come here.” She sets the rest of them in the basket they grabbed before holding the cone with both hands. Eight gingerly steps forward. At this proximity, Eight gets a better look at Four’s face than she probably has... Ever. And, well, she’s... Attractive, maybe. Probably not her type, but... Pretty. In a... Familiar way..? Four fumbles with the cone as she tries to put it on Eight, who isn’t exactly helping her... But she’s not  _ not  _ helping, either! Her eyes trail lower down Four’s face, and they stop at her lips. “... Four?”

“Yeah?” she replies “What’s up?”

Eight taps at her lower lip, claw poking at the small indent in it. “What’s that scar from?”

Four’s face turns dark sea-green  _ immediately  _ as she steps back and trips on the basket, landing on her ass. “There isn’t a scar there,” she responds quickly, covering it with her hand. “No scar. You’re seeing things.”

Eight looks down at her, sprawled out on the dirty floor of the Party Atlantis. Gingerly, she holds out a hand to help her up. Four shakily grabs it. “... Sorry,” Eight mumbles. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I, um- No, it’s, it’s fine, I guess, I just, y’know, we all have dumb scars, yeah?, well, uh, this one, isn’t dumb, it, I got punched. By Three. Yeah. Mhm,” she stammers, dusting herself off. “ANYWAYS, why don’t we look for more shit????”

Eight taps the cone on her head. “... Is this not enough?”

“We need  _ streamers,  _ Eight.” She rolls her eyes. Scanning the shelf, she grabs a pack of... Something. “These babies.”

“... Babies..? I thought they were streamers.”

“Yeah, they are. It’s- Language is dumb.” Eight nods. Four can be smart when she wants to be. “I dunno if we’ll actually use them, but we should get some just in case. What color is your favourite?”

“Uh...” Eight doesn’t really have a favourite. It used to be everything except Kamabo green, but Four’s ink is already pretty close to it in hue, so she’s started liking it a bit more. Theoretically, blue is the warmest ink, but that movie  _ sucked. _ It sucked  _ so bad. _ Eight got a little over halfway through, then Pearl walked in during a sex scene, which Eight apparently wasn’t supposed to be watching straight-faced and fully clothed.  _ “What... What are you watching there..?” _ she asked.  _ “A movie,”  _ Eight replied.  _ “It’s boring. Do you need me for anything?” _ So Pearl asked her to help with dinner and Eight would have preferred to do anything that wasn’t watching the remaining hour and a half of Blue is the Warmest Ink, so she followed her downstairs and that was that. That being said... Eight doesn’t hate blue, either. She just hates that specific movie. “I don’t have a preference.”

“Rainbow, then?” Eight nods. Four carelessly tosses it into the basket. “Cool beans.”

“... What else do we need?” Eight asks, looking over at the Wall of Party Stuff. The Wall of Party Stuff is actually colorfully bland, if that makes any sense. Another child starts crying in the background. Fun. “Should we get some Splatoween things?”

“Mmh... Maybe? I don’t know, are you going to celebrate?”

“I might. I don’t know.” They start walking down another aisle. The walls are continually stocked with colorful (albeit forgettable) items. Eight reads some of the packages as they walk by. Werewolf Mask, Vampire Fangs, Mummy Costume (Ages 6+)... “What are all of these?”

“Oh, those are Splatoween costumes. Kids dress up in them and then they go candy collecting. I mean, it’s not entirely for kids, but... Those are.”

“They... Sell adult Splatoween costumes as well?” The entire tradition seemed a tad... Childish, in Eight’s humble opinion. “Why..?”

“Er- You know how there’s that cultural obsession with making literally everything sexy, right?” Eight pauses then nods. “Yeah. They have it all... Last year I found some sexy Squid Sisters costumes. Now that I actually know them, maybe I should bribe Three into wearing one with me.” She grins at Eight. “I’d make a  _ wonderful _ ass-out Callie, right?”

What does that mean.

“What does that mean?” Eight asks. Four sighs dramatically (although in a fundamentally different way than Three) and shakes her head.

“You’ll see,” she replies. “You’ll see.”

Needless to say, Eight is terrified.

* * *

 

By the end of their shopping excursion, they had a basket filled with Stuff. And the Stuff was important because Four said it was. Four also pulled up a picture of the sexy Squid Sisters costumes and Eight absolutely  _ lost it _ at the thought of Three wearing the Marie one. On the way to the checkout line, Eight snagged an anatomically incorrect inkling skeleton. It was awful and sad and Eight  _ loved  _ it.

Speaking of awful and sad things, that crying child from before never actually stopped. Eight awkwardly steps around its crying form on the ground.

“Four?” Eight asks quietly, squeezing her hand gently to get her attention. “Are all children, um... Like that?”

She thinks for a moment. “... In a way, I guess so. In others, probably not. I know I was. My brother, though? Not so much.”

“You have a brother?” Four nods. “How old is he?"

“Same age as me. We’re identical twins.”

“Oh, twins? I didn’t know those were a thing.” 

She nods again. “Yeah, we came from the same egg and everything. It’s just him, though. Guess our parents couldn’t handle another gremlin. He was the jock, and I was the gay kid.” Eight snorts. “What, it’s true!! He’s really nice, though, even if he thinks baseball is a respectable sport. He’d stick up for me when people gave me shit. I should give him a call soon...”

“Why would they?”

Four shrugs. “I’m trans and people suck.” Well, that makes sense. Eight thinks she vaguely remembers Marina mentioning Four being trans and how she admired her for being open about it. She asked her why she couldn’t just be open about it too, and Marina sighed and said that it was complicated. “Still! I don’t get any now, or... Y’know, not as much,  _ and  _ my face is on a t-shirt, so who’s the real loser here?” She laughs and smiles at Eight. Eight can tell it’s fake. “Um... Yeah. So...”

“... Why didn’t you tell me your face is on a shirt??” Four pauses and then starts laughing. “I’d totally wear it!!”

“It was a promo thing. We were in the top 10 for popularity for a bit, but...” She sighs. “Everyone just kinda... Stopped caring. Like, my team, I mean. Neuros, Spear, both kinda stopped giving a shit. I’ve been meaning to look for new teammates, actually...” Four clears her throat. “Do you remember your family at all, Eight?”

Eight pauses to think. She doesn’t remember much at all, really. The only memories she has from before Kamabo are small bits and pieces from the small bits and pieces that fell off the mem cakes. As it stands, all eighty of them are sitting on a shelf in her room, waiting to be eaten. “... Vaguely. I remember... Tiny things.” Nothing big, nothing important. Just blips of knowledge and things like that. Things like the scent of weapon polish or the dry taste of a nutrition block, or the glowing lights that lined the walls. Things like moonlight shining down through the distant crack in the surface in Octo Ravine, things like the distant Inkling cheers that’d echo down some nights. Crickets chirping, children laughing - all so far away, all so nothing like the stone-cold clockwork routine they had in training. “... It isn’t a lot to talk about.”

“Mh.” Four grimaces as they finally get to the point in the line where they can pay for their Stuff. “I’m sorry, Eight.”

“It’s fine,” she tells her. “I don’t miss it. I have a family here, right?”

“Yeah, you do.” Four goes quiet before suddenly reaching for her phone. “Oh! Speaking of, I gotta text them...” While Four does that, Eight takes the stuff out of the basket and puts it on the... Conveyor belt? Is that really what that thing is called..?

“Hey, how are you today?” the cashier asks. They look tired.

“I’m okay, how are you?” Eight replies, fishing for her wallet in her bag. Four stops typing briefly to tap Eight’s wrist.

“It’s fine, Eight, I’ll pay for it.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s stupid for you to have to pay for your own party, isn’t it?” she asks, and Eight can’t really argue with that. She decides right then and there she’s going to find a way to repay Four for that. “Oh, uh, do you have a preferred cake?”

Eight shakes her head ‘no.’ “Soft,” she replies, and Four smile a little, rolling her eyes. “Uh... Vanilla, I guess?” Four nods and then types something.

“Frosting?”   
“One that isn’t a condiment.” Four gives her a look that can only be described as pity. “... I don’t know. Something that goes with vanilla?”

She types something else, then shoves it into her bag and pulls out her wallet.

“3765 C,” the cashier drones. “You have 234 C in savings.”

What..? But you’re still  _ spending  _ things, so... No money is actually being saved, right..?

Four slides her card in. “How do I run this as a credit?”

“Green circle.”

“Okay, thanks.” After doing the thing (presumably), Four pulls her card out and slips it back into her wallet in a very graceful manner. Eight usually had to fumble with hers whenever she did, but... Whatever. Grabbing the bags of Stuff, she nods at Eight. “C’mon.”

Eight grabs the bag with the anatomically incorrect inkling skeleton in it and half-jogs, half-walks after Four.

Seriously... How does she even walk that fast?

Once Eight catches up to her, she gets an idea. And it’s a wonderful idea, because it’s Eight’s idea. Well, okay, maybe it’s not that great, but...

“Four?” She looks over. “Stay still.” Eight sets her bag down and finds the party hat cone thingies. She pulls one out and steps closer to Four. She fumbles with it as she puts it on, and it’s a little lopsided at first, but ultimately Eight gets it to look okay. “Tada! Now we match!!”

Eight swears she catches Four blush slightly, but it could just be the lighting. She smiles, laughing slightly. “That’s so stupid,” she mumbles. “I love it.”

Eight beams at her, grabbing her free hand after picking up the bag. “So... Where to next?”

“Eh...” Four pauses. “I don’t know, actually. We could go to Arowana, but I don’t know if we really need a whole lot there.” Hm... “I kinda promised to keep you out until 4:00, right..? Uh... Wanna just, like, dick around? We kinda... Did all the shopping we needed.”

“I... Sorry if this is weird, but... Can you tell me about your brother?” Eight asks as they walk further into The Reef.

Four’s face lights up. “Yeah, sure! Uh, anything in particular, or..?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Okay, okay... So, there was this one time in middle school, like, right after midterms, and...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you guys remember lovecraft frog? it hurts my eyes. so much. makes me super nauseous but it also looks cool as hell. [heres a link](https://everyones-beau.tumblr.com/post/171038786835/joekewlio-naidje-rasec-wizzlbang) but warning for body horror and flashing lights. theres something viscerally upsetting about it that makes me wanna ralph and i love it  
> also!!!! please tell me if the "4 is trans" thing is disrespectful in any way shape or form ill change it immediately;;;;;;;; the last thing id want to do is be a piece of shit with it


	4. In which Three proves she can count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: some violence, above turf war but not blood but also still enough that i feel like i should warn for it? if you want to skip it, it starts at "There was something strange about her ink..." and ends at "Her head hurts."

Marina sighs after Four and Eight leave. Three feels a nigh-uncontrollable urge to join her. Man. This fucking sucks. Sure, it’ll probably pay off, like, tomorrow or something when the party happens, but getting there is going to _suck._

It’s going to suck _so much._

Silence settles over the two. Three doesn’t know how long it goes on for, she just knows that it does. Tapping her foot against the ground, she decides to start counting things in the room. Two Splattershots, three paintings, four plants...

“So...” Marina breaks the silence. Five... There aren’t exactly five of any object in the room. “Um, do you want me to go tell Pearl that you’re here?”

“... Yeah,” Three mumbles with a sigh. “That’s probably a good course of action.”

Marina nods and hesitates before walking off. Now alone, Three feels, uh. Incredibly out-of-place. Without Four _or_ Eight here, who... Even is she..? Her hand trails up her neck to behind her ear where her gill slits are located, quickly finding the small piercings within them. Her fingers run over each one - three on that ear, and then she checks the other - three on that one. Six in total, and still not the five that she needs. Rolling her eyes, Three twists and turns the piercings until she feels her slits grow agitated and sore. She tugs on one accidentally, and pain shoots from her gill. It’s at that point where she decides it’s an okay time to stop.

The room is silent, deafeningly so. Three can’t stand silence, not now, and her foot anxiously taps against the ground. _Tap-tap-tap,_ then pause for a second, then-- _Tap-tap-tap._ Wait two seconds, start again. Yet her foot grows tired, and Three stops, and silence starts again.

She stops and looks at the art on the walls, all paintings of various landscapes. One is of the beach, seemingly a little newer due to the bluer hue of the water. When she was younger, Three went to the beach frequently, but the water was a murky green, sickly and rotting and acidic. She has a feeling the younger her would have loved to see the beaches of today. Maybe that would have made her grandparents a little happier - nice scenery to go with their house and not the turbulent, dangerous waters. Three starts tapping at the thought of them. There isn’t any use in making her mood _worse._

Fucking... Speaking of reasons to be mad, where the hell did Marina go? She looks over at the stairs, waiting for any signs if her. And, uh... Nothing. Fucking _fantastic._ She sighs heavily and takes a seat on the carpet. There’s a split-second urge to just text someone, but Marina should be back soon anyways...

Sure enough, Three hears Marina walk down the stairs, Pearl in tow.

“I’m sorry it took so long!” she apologizes with. Pearl waves behind her.

“Yo!” she greets.

It takes a lot of effort to not roll her eyes. Three waves back with her customer service smile. “Hey,” she offers. “How are you?”

“Eh. I’m alright, yeah? How are you?”

 _“Terrible,”_ she wants to say. “I’m good.”

Pearl nods. “So... Uhhh, whaddya... Y’know?” She cocks her head.

Marina sighs and shakes her head. “Use your words, Pearlie.”

“... What exactly are we doing?” she asks. Three tries her best to keep her tentacle color stable, but she’s sure some part of it turns a dark, dark black. “Sorry, sorry, I-”

Three has to hold her tongue, and she closes her eyes to take a deep breath. It’s one day, after all. Just one. Three can handle them for one for day, right?

“Tell me,” she starts after opening her eyes, “Exactly how much progress you’ve made on planning?”

Pearl and Marina share a glance. Three sighs loudly.

“You have made progress, _right?”_

More silence.

“Okay,” Three says in a voice that’s too calm to be natural, “I’ll give you ten seconds to give me a good reason as to why I should stay.”

“Uh,” Pearl replies eloquently, “You. No car.”

Hand hovering over the doorknob, Three gives Pearl the sweetest smile she can muster.

“I can walk, dipshit.”

“Fucking. I’ll pay you?” Pearl offers. Marina gives her a look. It’s one of vague disappointment and inward panic. Three knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of those very, very well. “Rent? Roller?”

“How much are we talking?” she asks, because that’s a good fucking offer. Pearl pauses and licks her lips as she thinks, which is a little fucking gross but it also reminds Three that she should probably find her fucking chapstick soon given that she lost it. _Again._

“25,000?” Pearl says after a pause. Ooh. Tempting. That’d be enough to pay her month’s rent and give her a little extra spending money. Three’s hand wavers but ultimately falls back onto the knob.

“You’ve got bank to spare,” she replies, furrowing her brow. “Little higher.”

Marina mutters something beneath her breath that Three doesn’t catch, but it’s accompanied by an eye roll. At a much higher volume, Pearl whispers “Shut up, Reena, it’s fine.” Or, well, it’s a whisper for Pearl, so Three has to give her some credit for trying.

“50,000 C,” she says, confident. “That should be a fair amount, right?”

Ooh.

Very tempting.

“... Deal,” Three says after a pause. Pearl pumps her fist while Marina just shakes her head.

“You two are...” Her voice trails off. “... Something. You’re... Definitely something.”

“Fuck _yeah_ we are!” Pearl exclaims with a grin. She strikes a very dumb pose.

“I cannot believe you fronted a metal band,” Three mutters. Pearl narrows her gaze.

“Rude. I’m _super_ metal.” Three makes a noise of an unspecified emotion. “I even got a tongue piercing. What’s more fuckin’ metal than a tongue piercing?”

“Tongue piercings are for sucking dick,” Three mutters as she walks back over. Pearl replies with a series of gibberish because she’s currently coughing. Or choking. Loser. “So, what do you need me to do?”

“Uh...” Marina casts a glance at Pearl. “Well, we were going to just push ideas around, or something? We- Or, I, I suppose- Want to know who we’re inviting, what day it would happen, um... Things of that sort.”

“Ignoring the fact that you haven’t thought about any of this at all,” Three starts, “I think you should invite Gra- Er, the Captain. You said he was there with her in the Metro, right?”

Marina nods. “Yes, I was thinking that’d be a good idea. And, um... You, obviously, and Four, since she’s helping out...”

“What about the Squid Sisters?” Pearl suggests with a small cough at the end. “From, uh, from what I understand, the Calamari Inkantation is pretty important to her, so she’d probably be happy to see ‘em, right?”

Huh. Yeah, that... Actually made sense. Not that Three would ever let Pearl get the satisfaction of knowing. “They’re pretty busy, though,” she mutters. Pearl hums softly.

“Yeah, they are, but... I’m sure we could, like, bribe ‘em or something. I dunno. Maybe if we get Four to ask, or something.”

“Four? Why her?” Three asks. “Like, I get that she’s good with people and all, but...”

“Three, come on.” Pearl rolls her eyes. “You know Marie’s into her, right?”

“... Is she?” If anything, Marie’s just... Fucking _meaner_ to Four than she is towards everyone else. Constantly teasing her or jokingly berating her, yet... Well, Three could see it, but at the same time... “Seriously?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Dude, you should see the shit she sends in the group chat.”

1: Three _really_ wants to see those messages.

2: They have a fucking _group chat???_

“I, uh... I see.” Well, shit, now Marie _has_ to come, if only so Three can tease her about this just like she teased Three over Eight. “I... Guess we should?”

Pearl nods. “Yeah, let’s... Just hope they’re not busy?”

“Oh, actually,” Marina says, reminding them all of her presence, “I just asked them about it. Callie says she’d _love_ to go, and Marie just sent a, uh... A thumbs up.”

Fucking Marie, always communicating in emojis and shit. “Yeah, typical,” Three mutters. “Do you know when they’re free?”

“Umm...” Her voice trails off as she types, claws loudly clacking against the screen. “Thursday and Friday?”

“Can we aim for Friday?” Three asks.

Marina blinks. “Sure, but... Why?”

“Four has practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it gives us more time to prepare for it, so...”

She nods. “Okay, I’ll tell them Friday, then.”

A few second pass, and then Marina speaks again. “They want to know what time.”

“Uhhh...” Pearl scratches her cheek as she thinks. “Well, I mean, we gotta announce the stages in the morning. Most of it’s pre-recorded except for that. We’re done by 12:00, though.”

“Hold on,” Three mumbles, searching for her schedule on her phone. “It’s the fifth, right? I get out at 4:00, and it’s about a forty-five minute drive to here...”

“Would 6:00 give you enough time to be ready?” Marina asks. Three nods. “Okay! Pearlie, do you have any problems with that?”

“I don’t think so?” Pearl shrugs. “Yeah, I think 6:00 is good.”

Marina hums as she types. “They said they’re okay with it.” She smiles. “So! Um, what do you want to work on first?”

“What do you mean..?” Three says slowly.

“Like, um... Well, there’s always the matter of food. The party’s in two days, right? So... We could definitely start now.”

“Won’t it spoil?” she asks.

“Depends on what we make,” Pearl replies. “And where we store it, obviously.”

“Well, yeah...” Three’s voice trails off. “Uh, what can you make? Eight mentioned that you like cooking...”

“What can I make?” Pearl laughs sharply. “Buddy, what _can’t_ I make, is the question?”

“I am not your buddy,” Three mutters, “And shit, you’re about as humble as you are tall.”

Pearl glares at her. Three glares back.

“You...” Pearl’s voice trails off as she tries to think of a comeback. Take that, mayo gremlin. “You have dumb shoes.”

Three looks down at her feet. Her shoes are worn, with stains of every single color of the rainbow splashed on them, although they were once white. “Hm... Yeah. Anyways...” She sighs. “Lemme rephrase it, I guess. What do you _want_ to make for the party?”

“Uh... Well, there’s probably seven people coming, right? Or...” Pearl pauses to count. “Eight?”

“No, my agent number’s Three.”

Pearl rolls her eyes. “Fuck you, you know what I mean.” Three shrugs. “But, yeah, eight people... I dunno if we have enough stuff here to feed all of ‘em.”

“... Do you want me to go and shop?” Three’s hoping they say yes, and then she gets to _leave_ and experience the _hell of shopping at MakoMart._

“Once we figure out what we’re making, we can go!” Marina replies and Three feels her dreams shatter. “Admittedly, I’m... Not the best chef.”

Three briefly remembers Eight saying something about Marina being god-fucking-awful at cooking and nods a little. “Yeah, same.” That being said, she’d never _fry the_ **_fucking_ ** _milk,_ but... Whatever.

“Reena, babe.” Pearl sighs. “You boiled cereal. And- Then I fucking saw you dump ketchup on it?? Like, I- What the _hell_ were you trying to make, anyways?”

Marina rolls her eyes. “Uh, _oatmeal?”_

“You-” Pearl pauses to let out a noise of vague frustration. Three wishes she could join her. “Babe, I- Come on. We _have_ the microwavable oatmeal here??? Just- Just put it in a bowl with a cup of water and pop it in for like a minute and a half?”

“We have microwavable oatmeal,” Marina replies quietly after a beat of silence, “But we don’t have a microwave.”

“Wha-” Pearl shakes her head. “Marina, we- What do you think is above the stove?”

“The microwave.” Pearl gives her the look. Marina sighs. “I- I needed some of the parts for a thing I was working on! So I took them out and then replaced it, but I think the replacement parts screwed up, um... Something, because, like, everything I put in there catches on fire and- Don’t look at me like that!!”

Three is trying really hard not to laugh.

Pearl takes a breath in. A breath out. A breath in again. One last exhale.

“You,” she says after a decently long pause, “Are so lucky I love you.”

“I ordered a new one,” Marina mumbles. “It’s just... It’s not here yet.” She furrows her brow as she thinks for a moment. “Oh! Wait, why don’t I just..?” Suddenly, she whirls around and jogs up the stairs.

“Is this... Normal?” Three asks. Didn’t they still have shit to do??? She just fucking _ran off,_ the hell???

Pearl nods. “Unfortunately, yeah. Sometimes it’s cute... Other times, it’s...” She sighs, shaking her head. “We got shit to do, you know?” Oh, Three did know. And she would really, _really_ like to get that shit done, _please._ “Do you know if you or Four have any allergies?”

“Uh...” Her voice trails off as she thinks. “There’s, like, some medication that I’m allergic to, but I don’t think it’s in any food? Or- Shit, it’d be weird if it was. And, uh... Four doesn’t have any allergies, as far as I know.”

Pearl makes a small noise of acknowledgement. “Alright, cool. All the things I wanna make are ones I don’t make a lot, so... Come with me?” she says with a slight beckoning motion. Three resists the urge to roll her eyes and follows Pearl into the kitchen.

1: What the shit? Mega-what the shit?? Why is this kitchen so big. Why do you need a kitchen this big there are _three_ people living here. Why in the sweetest, pious, reverential of gargantuan shits would you ever need a kitchen this big? This fucking room is, like, the size of Three’s living room. This isn’t fucking fair, what in the literal turd-gargling fuck?????

2: Why do you need _three_ **_fucking_ ** _ovens???_ Three understands she is not the best chef. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that she, quite frankly, sucks ass at cooking, and maybe she doesn’t understand it, like, at all. But why does Pearl need three entire goddamn ovens? There are _three_ people living here, and Three knows for a fucking fact that Pearl bought this before Eight was even in the picture because she briefly mentioned moving on her shitty morning talkshow with Marina, like, four months ago, aka before Eight fucked off into the murder hole, so she’d be buying for, what, two people? Why would two people need three ovens? Like, okay, she _likes_ the number three and all, but you don’t- Fucking. Whatever. It’s FINE.

It’s fine.

Three spends too much time gawking at the disgusting amount of ovens because Pearl clears her throat and nods in the general direction of the fridge. Which is. Guh. Too fucking big. What the hell. Three could probably fit two bodies in there. Is that a little gross? Doesn’t fucking matter, fridges this big are also _disgusting_. Pearl fucking grabs a stool after opening the fridge doors.

“Hey, can you write this down for me?” she asks, handing Three a pen and a notepad. So Three nods because what the fuck, she can’t just tell Pearl no now. “Great, thanks...”

Pearl starts rummaging through the fridge and what the SHIT. Why does she need so much mayo? So far, Three has counted five sixty-four ounce jars of mayo. Oh, wait, Pearl just set two more down. Okay. Okay, cool. This is fine. Pearl likes mayo. Shit, is that why her tentacles are white?

Pearl gets on her tiptoes to shove a few bottles of ketchup aside. (A few. A fucking _few,_ why do these people insist on having so many giant containers of condiments, what the hell?????) “Salmon steaks,” she finally says, so Three hastily jots it down.

“Okay,” she mumbles, leaning against an oven.

“Seal butter.”

Three pauses to make an absolutely fucking bewildered face at the back of Pearl’s head, but she writes it down anyways. “Why seal? That’s fucking expensive.” And then she remembers who she’s talking to. “Just get almond or soy.”

“Uh,” Pearl says in the “what the hell, isn’t it obvious?” tone, “It tastes better? The flavour’s richer, dude.”

“Can you even taste the difference??” Since seals are starting to become more and more reliant on sentient caretakers, and also because they’re disgustingly hard to take care of, the price for seal-milk products (which are also easier to find than, say, other authentic dairy products from whales or walrus) tend to go for about three times the price of synthetic dairies such as soy or almond. Three’s tried seal cheese before, and it was, uh... An experience.

“Yeah, obviously. It’s sweeter, you know?” Three hears a few bottles clink together. “Actually, write down almond butter, too. And, uh... I’d get whale if MakoMart carried it, but you gotta go to a speciality cheese shop for that.” Three rolls her eyes. Of course.

“Right, my bad,” she mutters, writing it down beneath the rest. “What else?”

“Uhh... Hey, check the pantry for me? Do we have any flour?” Three checks and nods. “Do we?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “What do you need these for, anyways?”  
“The party,” Pearl says, ever helpful. “I wanted to make some puff pastry thingies with salmon, but I don’t know what they’re ca- Oh, write down dill.” Three does just that. Pearl starts putting the seven jars of mayo back. Once she’s done, she hops down from the stool and starts rummaging through a drawer. “Garlic, too, and seal cheese... Pine nuts, too. Do you know if Four’s lactose intolerant? I know a lot of people are, so I’m just wondering...”

“She... Wasn’t the last time I checked,” Three offers. Pearl makes a small noise and continues rummaging.

“Raspberries.” What??? “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

“You better.” Is she putting the raspberries with the salmon, or..? “What’s that for?”

“I think I wanna make a sauce with it? That or I can mix it with chocolate and make some tarts... That or it could be, like, a cake topping - write down two containers for it, please - but I dunno if Eight likes ‘em or not... Shit, I should’ve asked.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that’d be great, actually.”

Setting the notepad down, Three pulls her phone out from her pocket.

 **You, 1:14 PM:** Hey 8 do you like raspberries?

 **Eight, 1:15 PM:** I think so? Why?

 **You, 1:15 PM:** Pearl wants to know

 **You, 1:15 PM:** How are things there?

 **Eight, 1:16 PM:** Oh okay, then yes, I like them

 **Eight, 1:16 PM:** Four got lost

 **Eight, 1:16 PM:** I’m so sick of this song, Three

 **Eight, 1:17 PM:** I think I’m in Hell

She laughs quietly. “She said yeah,” Three tells Pearl, who nods.

 **You, 1:17 PM:** And I cannot control it~! The way your making me feel

 **Eight, 1:17 PM:** Three no

 **You, 1:17 PM:** And you have got me going spinning in circles round your warm ink

 **Eight, 1:18 PM:** Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t block you

 **You, 1:18 PM:** My scrambled eggs are somewhat edible

“Lemon... Write down flour anyways, because I don’t know if we’ll have enough.”

 **Eight, 1:18 PM:** ....Fine >:( But only because of that

 **You, 1:18 PM:** What not because of my nice ass?

 **Eight, 1:19 PM:** Eh

 **Eight, 1:19 PM:** Four’s is nicer

“Shrimp and coconut.”

 **Eight, 1:19 PM:** Like obviously I still like you more, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything but

 **Eight, 1:19 PM:** It’s... Nice.

 **You, 1:20 PM:** No

 **You, 1:20 PM:** No your right

 **You, 1:20 PM:** Its kind of unfair to be honest

 **Eight, 1:20 PM:** Yeah... She has to be bad at something, right?

“Pineapple.”

 **You, 1:21 PM:** She can’t cook and can’t sing but I’m sure you know the last 1 by now

 **Eight, 1:21 PM:** Gods, do I ever

“What do you need pineapple for?”

“It’s nice to have. Oh, write down flatbread and tomato sauce, I don’t feel like making my own.”

“You’re making pizzas?” Three asks. “Won’t that be a lot?”

“The leftovers won’t go to waste,” she replies, and Three accepts her answer. “Oh, and just write down toppings, please? Whenever Reena finishes dismantling her... Whatever, we can go.”

Pearl finally closes the drawer and closes the fridge, dusting her hands off. “So, uh...” Pearl sighs. “I guess we wait.”

“... Yeah.” Three drums her fingers against the oven. “Oh, um... You and Marina are dating, right?”

Pearl nods, taking a seat on the stool. “Yeah. We’re not public about it for, uh... Kinda obvious reasons, but... We are, yeah. It hasn’t been too long, but... Why?”

“Maybe this is, like... Kinda weird, but... Does your mouth ever get, like, tingly after you kiss?” Pearl blinks and gives Three a look. “No? Okay, sweet.”

“What,” Pearl deadpans and then shakes her head. “I- What do you mean by tingly?”

“Like... The tingly feeling when your foot’s asleep but not totally numb?”

Pearl’s brow furrows as she thinks. “... No,” she says. “I’ve never felt that before in my life. Maybe ask Marina about it-” Her voice increases in volume. “- WHENEVER SHE COMES DOWN.”

“Sorry!!!” she hears Marina yell back.

Three rolls her eyes with a small smile. “Alright, I’ll... Be sure to ask, I guess.”

“And, uh... Sorry if this kinda personal, but... Eight doesn’t hurt you, does she?” Pearl asks, voice serious.

What?  
“I- No, why?” She narrows her gaze. “Is she _supposed_ to?”

Pearl sighs. “No, it’s... I don’t know. Fucking Kamabo, man, it... It was really fucked up.” Three nods. “And, you know, since she doesn’t really remember things from... Before that, we just kinda, like... We worry, yeah? We’ve been trying to point her in the right direction and, like... Fix _that,_ but... Learning your morals from a death factory, it... It’s not the best. And we just want her to be happy, and we don’t want her to, like... You know. And... Fuck, I don’t even think _Eight_ knows, but Reena’s found some shit on... On _before,_ that she doesn’t mention, and it- It really explains it all, you know? Or, some of it, and I think, even though her memories are gone, they’re not gone, they’re just repressed and subconsciously they’re still, like, there, and-” Pearl takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. Sometimes... I see octolings that flinch or shy away when they see her, and I know she doesn’t know why they do, but, like... I know, and... I know they have, or... Or _had_ a reason to, and... We just... We don’t want her to turn out to be like that again.”

... Oh. That’s... That’s a lot. “I... See. Um...” Fuck, what does she even... Say? Three doesn’t think Eight would really... Hurt her, but... It’s nice to know. Maybe..?

“Sorry,” Pearl mumbles, rubbing her eye. “You probably shouldn’t worry. From what I’ve seen, she’s... Been fine. I think we’ve done a good job with it all, anyways. At... At least, I hope so.”

Three can remember fighting Eight. Or... Fighting not-Eight, because she hadn’t fallen yet. She remembers the Captain telling her to be very careful, because Eight was dangerous. Three didn’t really understand until Three shot at her.

She moved fast. Much faster than any other octoling she fought beforehand, with unpredictable, sporadic movements. Three remembers her yelling at Three the entire time. She didn’t speak the language, but she knew Eight was furious.

There was something strange about her ink, because it _burned._ It stung and it burned like liquid fire, and every hit Eight landed slowed Three down while each one Three landed barely seemed to affect her.

She remembers Eight’s fist crashing into her stomach. She remembers crying out in pain, and she remembers Eight’s grin - all edges, all points. She remembers the dizzying blow to the head she got from Eight’s elbow, and how the world span around her. She remembers Eight’s claws digging into her neck as she strangled her and how each frantic scratch at Eight’s face barely seemed to faze her.

Three remembers Eight’s laugh, as harsh and as sharp and as _terrifying_ as her smile.

“You lose,” she breathed, and Three distantly recalls seeing the light of the Captain’s Bamboozler lining up with Eight’s temple.

Three’s lucky the ground gave out when it did, because she doesn’t think she would have lived.

Her head hurts.

“Yeah,” Three breathes, digging her nails into her palm. “Yeah, I- I think you’ve done alright with it.”

“Did...” Pearl’s voice is small, smaller than it should be. “Did you know Eight from before?”

She nods. “It... It wasn’t pretty.” Three clears her throat and slightly shakes her head. “Yeah, uh, anyways, um... You... Have you been making any new music, or..?”

Pearl doesn’t question the sudden change in subject. “Eh. I’ve got some lyrics I’ve been writing, but it’s not quite _right_ yet. I don’t think we’ll produce another song this yeah, but... Why, do you like our stuff?”

“I’m more of a rock fan myself,” Three mumbles, hand moving to behind her ear to mess with her gill piercings. “Wetallica, Led Submarine, y’know.”

“Shit, you listen to Wetallica, too? They’re _so_ much better than Wet Korn, right?” Three nods. “God, whenever I get a chance, I’ll show you my albums. They sound so _fucking_ good on vinyl, man. What’s your favourite song?”

“Oh, definitely Battery.” Pearl grins, nodding. “But Whiplash isn’t bad, either. All their songs kinda fuck, you know?”

 _“Hell_ yeah, do I know!!” She air-guitars the opening riff while poorly mocking the guitar. “LASHING OUT THE ACTION, RETURNING THE REACTION, WEAK ARE RIPPED AND TORN! A! WAY!” She meets Three’s gaze with a doggish grin. Yeah, fuck it.

“Hypnotizing power, crushing all that cower! Battery is here to stay!” Three sings, and she’s not really that great at it, like, at all, but who the hell cares? Four isn’t here to give her shit and Pearl is literally the only Wetallica enthusiast she’s found in like, close to nineteen years of living, besides that one guy that was in her history class in ninth grade whose name she can’t remember.

“SMASHING THROUGH THE BOUNDARIES-” “- Lunacy has found me!” “CANNOT STOP THE BAT-TER-RY!” At that, both of them begin aggressively air-guitaring while shittily imitating the guitars.

“What,” says Marina, “Are you two doing?”

They stop mid-air-guitar. Three drops her arms immediately and leans back against the oven and pretends she never did anything in the first place.

“We’re _bonding,_ Reena,” Pearl says in the “it’s obvious” tone. “Did you finally dismantle your... Thing?”

Marina nods, holding up a few pieces of metal. “Yeah, I did! I’ll fix it when we get back, though... I don’t want to hold you guys up any longer.”

“Right, right,” Pearl replies, brushing a tentacle out of her face. “Three, you have the list, right?” She holds it up and shakes it a little. “Nice! Yeah, okay, then I guess we’re good. Reena, are you driving?”

Setting down the microwave parts, Marina holds up a set of keys and jingles them. “Mhm! But... I’m guessing you want control of the radio, right?”

“Pleeeeeeeeeaaaase?” Pearl asks, batting her eyes. Marina laughs.

“Fine, but next you drive, it’s mine.”

Pearl pumps her fist in the air. “Yesssssssssssssssss! Three, we’re listening to the entire Wetallica discography. You know all the lyrics, right?”

“Uh, fucking _obviously?”_ Pearl cackles as she hops off the chair.

“Nice! Yeah, yeah, let’s go!”

Marina rolls her eyes without a melodramatic oomph, which is honestly a lot rarer than Three thought it’d be. “You two are... Really something, huh?”

“You know it!” Pearl shoots back.

Maybe today won’t suck as much as Three thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YA MISS ME  
> nsgkjsnkhnsfkhnskfjn im so sorry this took so long;;;;;;;;; i promise i havent forgotten yall  
> ive made big progress on chapter 5 as well! and some on chapter 7. and like, ive got multiple drafts of chapter 6. literally all of the past two weeks have been spent working on Literally Every Other Part Of Welcoming Gift That Isn't This One. oops. and... i guess various oneshots, and also the fish thing, but.... shhh...................  
> just, like, a heads up, i really really suck at cooking and most of my cooking knowledge comes from all the seasons of kitchen nightmares that i binge when im super stressed. i can scramble an egg and i think i can make pesto, but only time will tell!!  
> i know ive plugged it to (s)hell and back, but heres my [tumblr](https://gayg3nt.tumblr.com), as usual. sometimes if you send me a weird anon (like the s4nic person) ill write a thing. its mostly just me yelling about nothing though, haha;;;  
> hope you guys have a happy pride c:


	5. In which Four calls someone a dolt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TIDP - touch identification pad. placed on weapons to link them to players, avoid theft, and to avoid lower-leveled players getting access to higher-level/upgraded weapons early.

Walking next to her, chatting amicably about the past month, Four finds herself liking Eight more and more. In the beginning, she didn’t like her at all - she was too cheery, too excitable, too _Eight._ (And, well, their first meeting hadn’t been pleasant either, what with Three being concussed and delirious on the couch and all. Four grabbed Eight by the shirt and screamed at her until her voice was hoarse, and Eight didn’t have anything to say for herself beyond “Sorry.”)

But was Four really at fault there? She doesn’t regret it, or... Well, no, she feels a little bad about it, but she doesn’t think her anger was entirely unjustified. Eight was the cause of Three’s many sleepless nights, the reason why Four moved from her nice apartment complex to Three’s shittier, tinier one. Eight didn’t directly cause all of Three’s scars and her two-week-long absence, but she caused her friend pain, and Four would rather die than see Three cry again.

Well... Would friends even be the right way to describe them? They’re more than friends, yet less than lovers. Whatever she is with Three, Eight interfered.

But, well, that’s water under the bridge now, isn’t it? Eight and Four are friends now, however rocky their start was, and that’s what matters.

Right?

“So, um, Four?” Eight starts, pulling Four from her thoughts. “Are you any good at Monopoly?”

The question seems a little out-of-place, but then Four remembers that that’s basically the only thing to do at Three’s apartment.

“I’m okay at it,” she replies. “Three usually kicks my ass, though.”

Eight hums softly, nodding. “We should all play together sometime,” she says. “I think it would be fun.”

Four has a feeling Eight isn’t very competitive at all. She can only imagine the shitshow that the three of them playing Monopoly would be; Four and Three screaming at each other until they physically couldn’t any longer while Eight, like, had a panic attack in the corner over the two yelling or something. Eight seems like the type to have a panic attack the slightest sign of conflict, right? With how jittery and nervous she gets just going to places, Four couldn’t imagine the girl going through the horrors described at Kamabo. If she had to guess what Eight was back in the Domes, she’d say engineer. She couldn’t see Eight being much beyond that.

“Eh... Maybe.” Four checks the time - a little bit past 4:00. “Oh, shit.”

“Huh?” Eight blinks. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re like, kinda running late. It’s 4:05 now, we were supposed to be back already...”

Eight’s eyes widen.

“... Oh.” She goes silent. “If you don’t get lost, we’ll be back in five minutes if we leave, um... Right now.”

“Well...” Four sighs. “It’s gonna take us at least ten minutes to get back to the entrance.” At least, it would with all of the stuff they bought. Some of it’s for the party, but most of it’s just clothes she bought because they’d look cute and goddammit Four wants clothes, alright? “Then we’ll load everything into the trunk, and if we don’t get lost and if there isn’t any traffic... We’ll be back by 4:30.” She’s about to text Three an apology for running late when her phone buzzes in her hand.

 **Three, 4:07 PM:** Keep 8 out longer

 **Three, 4:07 PM:** The microwave is on fire

 **You, 4:08 PM:** Oh, geez, OK

 **You, 4:08 PM:** Good luck!!!

 **Three, 4:08 PM:** Pay my bail if I kill someone okay?

 **You, 4:08 PM:** OK, I’ll see you soon then

 **You, 4:08 PM:** Aaaaa wait

 **Three, 4:09 PM:** ?

 **You, 4:09 PM:** How much longer do you want us out?

Four sighs. “Or... Not.”

“Who was it? What happened?”

“It’s Three. She said to keep you out a little longer.” Four rolls her eyes with a grimace. “I can only imagine the shitshow there.”

“Well...” Eight sighs. “We kind of already shopped, right?”

 **Three, 4:10 PM:** Be back at 6:00ish

 **You, 4:11 PM:** OK, stay safe, don’t do vegetables, eat your school, stay in drugs!!

 **Three, 4:11 PM:** Love you too asshat

Smiling softly, Four rolls her eyes as she slips her phone back into her pocket. “Yeah, we did, but, uh... We have, like, two hours to kill now.” Shifting a little, she racks her brain to think of, like... Something to do. “So, uh... What do you, like...”

“Umm...” Eight quietly taps her foot against the ground as she thinks. “... Well, you said something about looking for new teammates, right?”

She furrows her brow slightly, watching Eight nervously drag unseen marks into the tile. “Yeah..?”

“I, um, sorry if this is weird or anything, but... I- Never mind.”

... What?

“Are... Do you want to try out for a position, or something?” If Eight’s blush and silence following her question means anything, Four think it’s a yes. “I know I have two members that’ll be delighted to go, but, uh...” If Four brought Eight up to any of them, she knows both Neuros and Spear would be racing out the door. Neither of them give a seagull’s ass or any fraction of a shit, as unfortunate as it is. That’d leave them with an empty spot in their team, so... Noticing Eight’s somewhat-hidden crestfallen expression, Four finds herself pitying the girl. “I don’t have any problems with you joining, it’s just...” She sighs quietly as they continue walking. “I have two really shitty team members, and I think they’d both leave given the opportunity, and then we wouldn’t have enough members for a full team.”

“Oh,” is all Eight says as she continues thinking. “... What if I found a fourth member?”

Four can’t fight the grin off her face once she thinks about it. “We’d have to see if they played well, but if they did...” Grabbing her phone again, she fishes through her contacts to find Dana. “Hold on,” she tells Eight, who nods. “My, uh, one fucking functioning team member should be happy to hear this...” Pressing a button on her phone, she holds it up to her ear as it rings.

Eventually, Dana answers. _“Hello?”_

“Dana, hey,” she greets. “Is this a bad time to talk?”

_“No, I’m free right now, why? Did something happen?”_

“You could say that,” Four breathes, trying to downplay her excitement. “So, uh... You know how we’ve both been looking for new members?”

 _“Right...”_ Her voice trails off. _“Oh, did you find someone? Where’d you find them, and do you think they’ll be good?”_

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” she replies, chuckling slightly at her enthusiasm. “We’ve been friends for a month or so, but she asked me about it earlier. I’ve heard she plays well, if it counts.” Well, not so much _plays_ as it is _fights,_ given that she (apparently) beat Three in a fight and then immediately _saved the fucking world,_ but Dana doesn’t need to know that.

 _“You’ve only heard?”_ Dana asks. Four doesn’t need to see her to know she’s pouting. _“I know we’re desperate, but...”_

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but... You know Summer, right?” Dana makes a small noise on the other end, one that’s part acknowledgement and another part mild contempt. Four knows the two don’t exactly, uh... Get along, like, at _all,_ but... “Right, she apparently beat her in a one-on-one.”

 _“Oh?”_ That caught her attention. _“I know I’m not the biggest fan of her, but... She’s a damn good roller.”_

Four decides to not mention the fact that Three was using her Hero Shot, which is already overpowered as hell, and the fact that shooters are Three’s best weapon and she just uses rollers because swinging them makes her feel cool.

“Right,” she says instead, “Have you found anyone at all?”

 _“Oh! Yeah, I have.”_ Sweet. _“I was gonna tell you about him tomorrow since I had a feeling Spear wasn’t gonna show up and we could test him out then, but... Now works, too,”_ Dana chirps with a laugh. _“His name’s Lucas and he’s a pretty good E-Liter. Found him when I was playing Clam Blitz. He snapped me from across the map.”_ She pauses. _“Or... Well, he did a few times. We won, but I think it’s only because he was with this C- kid. Even though he played so well, he apparently isn’t even eighteen yet. That’s kind of a trend, y’know? All those inklings with the weird hair are suuuuuper good turfers.”_ Weird hair..? Oh. Oh, she meant octolings. Yeah... Child soldiers would probably excel at the game. _“Anyways, what weapon does your new recruit play?”_

“Uh...” Four briefly covers the transmitter as she turns to Eight. “Hey, Eight? What weapons do you play?”

“Um... I can use all of them just fine, minus the Inkbrush. It’s too flimsy.” After a moment of thought, she adds, “I sort of like splatlings, though, and blasters aren’t awful.”

“Those are, uh... Kind of different.” Eight nods. “Any others?”

“Shooters, obviously.” Four hums a little.

“She uses splatlings, shooters, and blasters,” she tells Dana.

 _“Those aren’t very similar,”_ Dana muses. _“Are you sure she’s not just saying that?”_

“I mean, you’ve seen me,” Four replies, adjusting the bags in her grip. “I play dualies but I can use chargers sometimes. And, well, she did beat Summer. Tatzelwurm knows she had the ink scars to show it.”

_“Yeah... Okay, sure. When did you want to test them out?”_

“Like, uh... Now.” Dana laughs loudly on the other end, a sharp, guttural cackle.

 _“God, Sarah, never change...”_ She clears her throat. _“So, I can text Lucas and see if he’s free, but... If not... Y’know.”_

Four nods, knowing Dana can’t see it. “Sorry, I know it’s short noti-”

 _“Aw, are you kidding me?”_ Four cocks an eyebrow. _“I’ve been WAITING for this day for, like, months! God, Spear’s such a dick, too, and Neuros is a whiny piece of shit. I’m so excited.”_ She pauses. _“We’re meeting at Deca, right? What time?”_

“Uh...” Four pulls her phone away to check the time - 4:15. “It’ll take us like twenty-ish minutes to get to Deca, so... Wanna go for 4:45?”

 _“Yeah, yeah, that’s perfect!”_ Four can just _hear_ Dana’s grin. _“Oh, and Lucas replied, he said he’s ready to go whenever.”_

“Awesome!” She can’t help but be excited. Finally... “Yeah, we’ll see you soon, then!”

 _“Okay! Bye, Sarah!”_ Dana hangs up after that.

Turning to Eight, Four beams. “We’re doing it!” she says. “Oh, but... Do you actually have your gear and stuff?”

“Mmh... I think I have another ink tank in a locker there, since I don’t like lugging one around.” She pauses. “And, um... I only really have a Splattershot Jr., since I’m not a super active player, but I can just buy a weapon at Ammo Knights, right?”

She nods. “Yeah, you can, and, uh... Actually, have you bought any of the Hero Weapons?” Eight cocks her head to the side. “Since you’re an agent and all, you get little perks from Ammo Knights. They’re just custom versions of the normal weapons, but you should be able to get access to other weapons that you’re too low-level for. Actually... That reminds me, what level are you?”

“I think I just hit twenty-seven?” Ah, so... Not very high at all. Still enough to get all of the basic weapons, at the very least. “I know I keep my tracker in my bag, at the very least...”

“We’ll be able to play a few matches, I think...” Her voice trails off. What else did she need to cover..? “Oh, do you know your ITL?”

“ITL..?” she repeats, furrowing her brow. “I’m not sure what that is.”

“Ink toxicity level,” Four explains. “Basically, how much venom do you produce and how often do you have to clean the tank filter?”

“Oh, that’s what that is... Mmh, I think when I was buying a tank, Sheldon said it was, like... 4.00, I think?” What. That’s too fucking high, what the shit. “Is that a lot..?”

“Yes.” High is 2.00. Extremely high is 2.50. 3.00 is unheard of, but fucking... Fucking _4_ _.00??_ To Four’s knowledge, the scale caps at _3.00,_ so why the fuck does Eight claim to be at _4.0_ _0?????_ “Are you sure he said the right number, not, like... 2.50 or something..?”

“Well... I can check once we get to Deca. I still have some ink testers left from when we were buying...” Eight pauses to brush a tentacle out of her face. “I have to clean my filter every three turf matches and every two Ranked, but I can push to five if I really have to.”

What. The fuck. “Maybe you need to buy a tank with a stronger filter or something?”

“... I did?” Eight cocks an eyebrow. “The weaker ones broke after a few games. Why, what’s yours?”

“0.50,” she replies. Eight looks wildly confused. “... That’s, like, average.”

“That’s _low,_ ” she mumbles. “How do you, like... Defend yourself?”

“... With my dualies?” Four says slowly. Eight blushes slightly. “I- What do you mean?”

“... Never mind,” she says quietly. She clears her throat. “So, um... What weapons do you all use?”

“I play Splat Dualies, those come with Burst Bombs and Tenta Missiles. Dana plays Inkbrush, which has Splat Bombs and Splashdown. I’ve heard the other potential recruit uses the E-Liter, although I’m not entirely sure which one. The basic one’s got Ink Mines and Ink Storm, though. So... I guess just pick whatever you think synergizes with that?” Sparing a glance at Eight, Four can tell she’s wildly fucking lost. Giving her a smile, she tells her, “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll help you with it.”

Eight smiles back. “Thank you, Four.”

“It’s nothing,” she replies. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, but...” Eight pauses while struggling to find the words. “It just means more than you know,” is what she settles on, and her words make something stir in her chest. Four has to look away to avoid blushing, although she’s sure she does anyways.

“I’m happy to help, then,” she tells her, and Eight responds by taking her hand and gently squeezing it.

Yeah...

Four’s happy she doesn’t hate Eight anymore.

* * *

 

After informing Dana that they’d be stopping at Ammo Knights to pick up a weapon, Sheldon begins fucking _yammering_ the moment Eight asks a simple question about a weapon. Eight looks very, very uncomfortable, but she’s a _decent person_ who _doesn’t know how to tell Sheldon to shut up,_ and Four _kind of didn’t want to snap at the guy_ but also _what the fuck, it’s a Tentatek Splattershot, it’s not that difficult._

“So, did you get all that?” Sheldon asks with a wide grin. Four and Eight share a glance, and then Eight nods. “Great! Are you interested?”

“Um,” Eight starts, nervously fiddling with the strap of her bag. “... Sure?”

“Just to make sure,” Four adds before Sheldon actually sold her the damn thing, “It comes with Splat Bombs and Inkjet, right?”

“Yep, it does!” He holds it firmly in his grasp. “Oh, and there’s a custom variant of it, too.” Sheldon suddenly ducks beneath the table and pops up a few seconds later. In his hands is a Splattershot, but with a chrome finish and black details - it takes Four a second to realize it’s a replica of an Octo Shot. He hands it to Eight, who takes it gingerly. She slowly turns it in her hand as she inspects it, and furrows her brow as she realizes what exactly it is.

“How do you..?”

“He’s the NSS engineer,” Four explains, and Eight visibly relaxes. Now _Sheldon_ looks tense, so she rolls her eyes and tells him that “Eight’s an agent as well. Agent 8.” Sheldon opens his mouth to ask a question Four’s heard (and asked) multiple times, so she cuts him off. “No, we don’t have eight agents. It’s a long story. And it’s not a racial thing, to my knowledge.” He closes his mouth.

“I wish you told me earlier!” he mumbles, pushing up his glasses. “Well... You get discounts on all of the custom Heroes now, and... That custom Octo Shot won’t cost you any more than the regular Tentatek now.” The price tag doesn’t matter much, given that Eight’s _fucking_ **_loaded_ **, but the sentiment can be appreciated at the very least. “Are you interested? It’s 2,100 C.”

Eight inhales shakily, closing her eyes, then exhales and opens them. “Su-”

“Well, okay, it’s not really a _custom,_ a lot of the design is based off the actual Octo Shot’s design, what with the funnels and all, _AND_ it’s got a built-in filter for venom! It was kind of a pain to make, but I’m really happy with how it tu-”

“Sheldon,” Four snaps with a glare. His face turns blue with embarrassment and he apologizes. “C’mon.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just- I’m just so _excited_ to share! And... That Hyperfresh character was a big help, too.” He clears his throat. “So, you’re buying it?”

“Yes,” Eight mutters, unable to force all of the edge from her voice. She almost shoves her card into his hand. Four notes the small circles towards the ends of her tentacles start glowing a slight blue. Strange... She’s never actually seen that before. “Thank you,” she adds quietly.

Sheldon pulls the TIDP guard off the handle and instructs Eight to press her thumb against it. The TIDP lights up in Eight’s color. “Tada! Now it’s synced.”

“Thanks, Sheldon,” Four says with a forced smile. She practically drags Eight out the door as soon as possible, and Eight visibly deflates the moment they leave. “He’s annoying, right?”

“How can someone talk so much?” she asks. “It’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah, I know... If we didn’t need him on the NSS so badly, I’d kick him.” Eight laughs. “What? Wouldn’t you?”

“... Maybe,” she replies after a moment of thought. “But... There’s a built-in filter?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Four admits. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“... How?”

Four shrugs. “It’s a skill you acquire after the third time you visit him, I guess. He’s not that bad... I just think he’s happy to share his stuff with the world, you know?”

“I... I _guess_ I understand,” she says with a sigh, “But he... Would it kill him to be a little quieter?”

She laughs, and Eight gives her a look that can only be described as pure unamusement. “Sorry, sorry, but... Yeah, I think he’d benefit a little from it.” Checking the time, Four notes that it’s 4:40. Perfect, they’re on time.

The walk to Deca doesn’t even take five minutes, and by the time they walk in it’s two minutes shy of 4:45. Four looks around for Dana while Eight grabs her hand again and honestly does she use lotion or something? Her hands are _really_ soft... Maybe Four should ask, or something. Would that be weird? Maybe she could get Three to ask or something, Lord knows she owes her one at this rate-

“Sarah!” Her eyes snap over to the speaker. On one of the couches in Deca’s waiting room is Dana, Inkbrush resting on the side of it with her ink tank. Dana waves at her, which Four returns. “Man, I was scared you were gonna be late and _ohhhhhhhhhhh my god_ is that the new girl??? She’s _adorable.”_

“I have never been late in the history of anything ever,” states Four. If she’s going to be honest, that might be the one thing she’s, like, actually consistent with. “And, uh... Yeah, that’s her. Eight, meet Dana. Dana, meet Eight.”

Dana gives Eight a wave, who looks mildly uncomfortable.

“Um,” Eight says eloquently, “Hi?”

“Soooo, like, are your tentacles naturally like that? And is that your natural ink color, because if so that’s so cool, and- Wait, are you like, one of those albinos or something where your ink’s the color of your blood, or- Nonono, can’t be, right? It’s too purple, but _wow_ it’s so nice!! And what brand of oil do you use, I’ve never seen a blue highlight like that before, unless you, like, have some kind of piebaldism or something but I don’t think there’s any that’s _just_ on the tentacles, I mean unless you do in which case wow, you could totally enter a contest as some kind of genetic anomaly for that alone, or, like- Do you have an Inkstagram? I can _totally_ manage an Inkstagram for you, with like, the right lighting and everything you’d get guys lining up at your door in _minutes!_ And you could totally pull off that goth-y kinda frilly look, and- Sarah, wait, oh my god, don’t you think she’d look cute in a skirt? She could ROCK a skirt,” Dana babbles.

“Dana,” Four says, “Tone it down a bit.”

Realization flashes across her face as she blushes. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just really excited..! I’ve been WAITING for this day for, like, ages.” Dana slumps further into the couch as she kicks her legs about idly. “Lucas left to go get his stuff from his locker, by the by.”

Oh. Right. Lockers exist.

“Ummm, Four?” Eight cocks her head to the side ever-so-slightly. “What’s your locker number and code? I can go get your stuff for you, if you’d like.”

That’s... Awfully nice of her. Unless she’s trying to avoid Dana, which is also pretty reasonable. She’s nice, but... Geez, it wouldn’t hurt to talk a little less! And... Now all Four can think about is Dana and Sheldon trying to have a conversation. Wouldn’t _that_ end poorly?

“Sure, sure. Want me to write it down, or something?” she asks.

“Could you text me it, please?” Four nods and does just that. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” she says with a small smile. “You know where they are, yeah? Hall B, take two lefts and it’s under the blue section.”

“I remember where the lockers are, Four. Thank you, though.” Eight lets go of Four’s hand and moves it to the strap of her bag. “I won’t take too long!”

With a small smile, Eight’s off.

“So,” says Dana in That tone, “She calls you Four?”

“Yeah,” she says, taking a seat next to her. “Why?”

“You, um... Have something going on between you, or..?”

Four rolls her eyes. “No, you _dolt._ She’s dating someone and I’m not looking for anyone right now.”

“Nooo, just last week you were complaining about how lonely you are!” A curious cloudy medley of pink and red swirls towards the ends of Dana’s tentacles. “Sooo..? Don’t you _liiiiike_ her?”

“Act your age,” Four scoffs with an eye roll. Dana pouts but the small orange spots dancing about her mantle suggest she’s teasing nonetheless. “And she’s nice, but... Like I _said,_ she’s dating someone.”

“Hmm...” While not breaking eye contact, Dana furrows her brow as her mantle cycles through different shades. “... Who is it? Do I know them?”

Four sucks in a breath. “Youuu could say that...”

Dana narrows her gaze further before her tentacles briefly flare up with bioluminescence. “Don’t tell me it’s _Summer.”_

“How the fuck did you get that on the first guess?!” Four didn’t _say_ anything about it at all. “Seriously, are you a psychic or something..?”

“Your tentacles matched mine when I got to her color,” she explains. “But, wow, really?? I didn’t think Summer was even, like, capable of getting a date in the first place...”

“You know, you’re way too good at controlling your mantle. It’s _scary,_ you should teach me...” Dana grins as it fades back to her normal hue. “Yeah, it’s kind of a recent development, though? Turns out they’re both fucking morons, so it took like... At _least_ a month longer than it should have.”

Dana hums and nods. “Mmh, yeah... Weeeeell, it worked! Maybe Summer’ll get outta your hair then, huh?”

“Nah,” Four says plainly and Dana’s mantle briefly lights up in a furious display of whites and blues. “Hey, hey... It’s fine. She’s a lot better than she was in July, anyways.”

“She better be,” Dana grumbles. “I just hope- Eight, was her name?” Four nods. “I just hope she’s not... Like her.”

While Dana could... Definitely choose a better person to say this to, Four understands. “She isn’t,” she tells her and there’s a slight edge to her voice that she couldn’t force out. Dana’s tentacles flashe beige in apology and Four nods. “So..." Four clears her throat, adjusting in her seat as she inches closer. "Tell me about the new guy.”

“Oh! Right, right, his name’s Lucas, like I said, and he’s seventeen, apparently. He’s a reeeeeeeaaaally good E-Liter, and he uses the Scope so obviously he’ll kill you from, like, outta nowhere. Said he prefers the Custom but he’ll use the reg if he’s gotta, and, uhh... Oh, his gear, right? Right, right, he’s got a Tenacity bandana with all Special Up, ‘cause of the bubbles, pair of boots with Object Shredder and Main Saver - for Ink Armor, so he claims - and he either runs more Main Saver or Sub Up, depending on the mode and circumstance and stuff.”  Dana folds her hands in her lap and smiles. “That good enough?”

“Yeah, that’ll work...” That gives them one backliner to replace Neuros, although the charge-storing capabilities of non-scoped chargers was something they might miss. Tenacity’s always a nice ability to have although Four hopes it wouldn’t see a lot of use. When Dana goes down, the penalty from Respawn Punisher keeps her out a few seconds longer, though she gets in a little faster with Stealth Jump and all Jump Speed Up. Four prefers to wear Special Up with her Tenta Missiles - three sub slots with a main of Charge Up - so the Tenacity bonus should make it easier to pester the enemy with them until Dana gets back. Hopefully Lucas can keep the enemy away from the objective while Four’s using her special, but... That still remains unseen.

And then there’s Eight, the wild card.

Four still has her doubts about Eight and accepted her invite on a whim, truth be told. On one hand, she’s an NSS agent, which is a testament to her skill. On the other... Is Eight cut out for these kinds of things? Eight’s barely level twenty-seven, compared to Four and Dana’s level 36* and 25*, respectively. Eight can fight... Probably, given how badly Three looked after Kamabo, but...

She sighs.

“Hey, Sarah, is something up?” Dana asks, pale blue dusting the ends of her tentacles.

“No,” she says, forcing a smile. “It’s fine. I’m just a little worried, is all.”

“We’ll do good!” she chirps with a bright smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we will.”

Before Four can give it much more thought, she sees a familiar figure walk back into the lobby.

“Sorry it took so long,” Eight apologizes, handing Four her ink tank and Hero Dualies Replica. “Is this the other recruit you were talking about?”

Next to her is a decently tall octoling with an E-Liter Scope strapped to his back.

“Hello,” he greets, voice muffled by his bandana and distorted in a way Four can’t describe, in a way beyond an accent. “I’m Lucas.”

Offering his hand out for a handshake, Four takes it.

“Lucas, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” she says, not oblivious to way Eight winces at her _‘I have to pretend to be a functioning member of society’_ voice. “I take it you met Eight when you were over at the lockers?”

With a small sigh, Lucas nods. “Yes, we did. I already checked the rotations, and League is currently on Rainmaker. Dana already disclosed your gear sets when I was, um... _Selected,_ so I’m wearing Sub Up to allow us to move across the map easier.”

Selected, huh..? Yeah, that's a good way to put it. Four loves Dana, she really does, but... Sheesh, if she's not overwhelming. Spear once compared her energy to that of a freight-train on caffeine, which was... Appropriate.

Four nods, putting on her ink tank. “So... Shall we go, then?”

She’s met with two smiles and a slightly-unnerving stare, and that’s a good enough answer for her.

(As they start walking down the halls to register, Four takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly.)

(Things will go well.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was originally much longer but i had to cut it short... oops. its like. close to 5k as it is, soooo.... hopefully thats good!!  
> there might be delays with the next update which entirely hinges on the hotel im staying at having internet or not. hopefully it will, though!


	6. In which Eight swears more than twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (alt title: please dont ask me to write a fight scene ever again. action writers how do yall do this)

Eight takes a deep breath.

She can do this.

On the walk to their room, she reviewed the Rainmaker rules over and over. Rainmaker’s at the center of the stage, Rainmaker explosion kills, the goal is to bring the Rainmaker to the enemy’s goal post... Scores are displayed on boards throughout the arena and are designed to be easily seen, and the team with the lowest counter wins.

It’s timed, too, but Eight won’t explode this time if she screws up. A part of her is worried about that - the lack of explosives, which, honestly, is just a weird thing to be worried about - because if she doesn’t have them, she worries she won’t play to the best of her ability. Eight would really hate to let Four down, of all people. These past two and a half months have been spent trying to get Four to tolerate her (or, gods forbid, _like_ her) and now that Four seems to (at the very least) _not_ hate her, Eight worries that if she screws up Four would go right back to how she was in the beginning: angry, with hate-filled eyes and a lashing, burning tongue. She had a right to be like that, Eight thinks, because Eight hurt Three. The injuries were both direct and indirect, like the way the ink remained in the raw bits of flesh from the hijacking, or the large cuts and scrapes that littered her body from when she crashed into the blender. There are psychological wounds that Three tried to hide, like how she practically cowered in Four’s shadow wherever she went, like the terror-filled gaze she had whenever she was alone (even at the Cabin, when she sat on the couch, when she didn’t notice Eight was watching) and how she’d try to hide her blue, bloodshot eyes whenever she was with Eight. Then there was the way her voice trembled and wavered when she spoke.

Honestly, Eight has to wonder if Three ever hated her, and if she still hates her now, if she’s just dating Eight to be nice. There’s a part of her that knows that’s irrational, but... Well, self-awareness doesn’t help all that much if you can’t do anything about it.

Eight shakes her head.

That’s not important right now - there’s a match to be played.

Her Octo Shot Replica really just seems like a normal Splattershot, which is... Good. Just a nice, basic shooter. The sub and special with it are ones she’s familiar with... Maybe too familiar? They’re the ones she had to use when she was escaping from Kamabo. While they definitely bring back some... Less than desirable memories, she can use them well.

The part of it that she’s the most interested in is the filter. Eight understands why ink filters are built into ink tanks and everything, because the more venomous cephalopods have an advantage on the others. And, well, if the ink pierces skin (which it always does if you get hit by a shot, really) then the neurotoxins may stay in the body and lead to... Infections and, in more extreme cases, death. If Eight focuses on it, she’s able to limit the amount of toxins in her ink. That, in turn, means her filter doesn’t have to work as hard. ... And then there’s a part of her that wonders if she could force toxins into ink produced from her depositor, but that’s both inappropriate and crude and also it could probably kill someone and that’s the last way she’d want to kill Three not that Eight thinks about that a lot because that’s not a good thing to think about also would they even ever get that far into their relationship??? NOT THAT EIGHT THINKS ABOUT THAT A LOT EITHER, because she doesn’t, because she’s a child of the Elders, and children of the Elders don’t think about those kind of things at all ever BUT UH **_MOVING ON,_ ** what was Eight talking about??? Filters??? Right. Weapon filters.

Eight looks down as the Octo Shot Replica in her hand. Towards the back of it is a series of thin, raised vents. She thinks she can see the white hue of a filter behind the vents, but... Oh, does it heat up ink or something? But that would give the Octo Shot Replica over other weapons, since the shots would be more like tap-shots from a charger, right? Then, maybe the ink is filtered through it once more and compressed like a regular shot, but the excess venom would... Be heated and denatured through that? But, then that’s just a great way to burn yourself, right..? Eight will... Ask Marina about it later or something. And not Sheldon.

Screw Sheldon.

So... Right, okay. Rainmaker. Eight skipped a few ranks, making it to A+ over the span of a week, but her average is dragging the rest of them down. Four is S+8, Dana is S+7, and Lucas is S+3. They’re limited to rank S games right now, but they might be able to get into an S+0 game if they do well.

“Okay,” Four says, taking a right onto Hall D. They were assigned D15(03), otherwise known as Hall D, Room 15, Replica 03. “So, we’re on The Reef right now. Paired with four S’s... It says here that they’ve got a Forge, a Rapid Pro, a, uh... Bamboozler? Really..? Aaand a Ballpoint.”

“I hate Blasters,” Dana mumbles.

“The Bamboozler can be a threat,” says Lucas, adjusting his bandana, “If they know how to use it.”

“Emphasis on if,” Four replies. “Dana, you guard the Rainmaker, I’ll play support. Lucas, you watch the Rainmaker, and Eight... You carry it.”

Eight nods. “Will do.”

They step into the lobby, and Eight takes another deep breath.

She can do this.

* * *

 

“Fuck!” Eight swears, barely dodging a shot from the Bamboozler. The shield is down, but no team has grabbed it yet - Lucas has his chargersight trained on it, while the Ballpoint and Bamboozler are pestering them with long-ranged shots that outrange Dana, Eight, and Four.

Dana’s currently fighting the Rapid Blaster, weaving between shots while he continues to step just out of her reach. The Forge Pro also happens to be shooting at Eight - fun - and while he outranges her, his weapon consumes more ink than hers does. Eight’s attempting to conserve her shots though, though she shoots at him whenever she gets a chance. Some hit, most don’t - this is starting to _really_ be a pain.

She thinks she heard Four say she was going to try to flank them, but she hasn’t seen Four at all on the other side of the bridge.

Suddenly, a loud, deep frequency erupts from the corner of the arena - _“Booyah!”_ \- from Four, a series of orange missiles flying out from her. “Grab it!” she yells over them, and Eight races forward and grabs it. Four hones in on her position and superjumps to her.

“Which way are we going?” she asks, and Eight replies by inking a path off the bridge before jumping off. The Forge Pro notices this and shoots at her, but Eight narrowly dodges them. The Bamboozler charges a shot that whizzes over her head, and Eight fully charges a shot towards the path on the side. They chase after her, but a loud _BANG_ resounds throughout the arena as Lucas snipes the Forge Pro.

Four trails behind her a little, lobbing a Burst Bomb straight into the Bamboozler’s face. In return, she charges a shot and it hits Four in the hearts. She rolls to the side, dodging the weaker shot meant to finish her off, and then another roll back to where she was, using the boost to splat her.

Eight hears a high-pitched, warbling frequency to the right of her - _“Ouch...”_ \- so that means Dana’s down. Four grits her beak and swims to Eight’s side and then passes her.

Eight hears the familiar noise of a splatling charging, so she fully charges a shot. The air on the mouth of the Rainmaker wavers visibly, the ink burning white. She launches it, and the explosion shakes the ground as the Ballpoint swims to the side, her charge lost. Four goes far ahead to deal with her, forming two Burst Bombs and smashing them into her head before she could charge up another shot.

“C’mon!” she calls, and Eight swims ahead, but then-

The Bamboozler unleashes a fully-charged shot into Eight’s face again, then follows it up with a weak shot immediately. Four can’t stop her in time, and neither can Eight, and the last thing Eight hears before being splatted is her loud, warbling _“Ouch...”_ frequency that’s amplified by her ink tank.

Two seconds later, and Eight hears Four’s splatted frequency.

“I cannot believe we lost to a Bamboozler,” Four mutters.

“It’s not really a bad weapon,” Eight replies, forming a Splat Bomb and rolling it off to the side to charge her special gauge more. “It’s just really hard to use and outclassed by a lot of other weapons.”

“So... You’re saying it’s bad, then?” Four replies with a smirk. Eight rolls her eyes. “Fiiine.”

They settle into a game of back-and-forth rather quickly - the enemy team makes some progress, only for Four’s team to get the Rainmaker back, only for the Rapid Blaster to shoot blindly and splat them all, and the cycle repeats.

Eventually, the Rapid Blaster just starts splatting them whenever they get close at all. The enemy team is at the 35 mark while Four’s team is still at 57, and there’s less than a minute left now... Whenever they’d get close, he’d be there and he’d splat them. It’s starting to _really_ get on Eight’s nerves.

“Hey,” she says to Four once they both respawn, “Are you getting sick of the blaster, too?”

Four rolls her eyes with a nod. “God, am I? We should really stop them soon, too...” she mutters, pointing up at the scoreboard on the ceiling. The enemy’s counter is currently at 34 and decreasing.

“Charge up Tenta Missiles,” Eight tells her before dropping into her ink. She catches a glimpse of Dana valiantly slapping the Bamboozler a few times before the Rapid Blaster shoots her point-blank the face.

Eight hears the Rainmaker charging another shot, and the arc whizzes over her head. The explosion shakes the ink around her, and then the enemy team starts swimming forward. Eight forms a Splat Bomb and rolls it towards them. The Bamboozler pops up and darts back, slamming into the Forge Pro. “Sorry!” she yelps, readying her charger.

The Ramp is an odd place to be at. It’s different than other ramps, because it’s inconvenient and deserving of a title. You can’t ink it and it’s far too close to the spawnpoint so people are constantly coming at you. Eight normally hates being at The Ramp when she’s trying to move the Rainmaker, but it’s not so bad now. The Bamboozler forms a Curling Bomb and gently nudges it up The Ramp and goddammit-

Eight launches herself off the ground with a kick, rolling over to the enemy team and landing two shots on the Bamboozler. She’s able to dodge a shot from her, but the Forge Pro charges up a Rainmaker blast while the Rapid Blaster starts shooting at her. She’s content with getting splatted by the Rapid Blaster, although she’s going to keep shooting nonetheless, but then the full force of the Rainmaker blast hits her entire body and  _fuck-!!_

Eight respawns next to Dana.

“You too, huh?” she mutters. Eight nods, feeling her rings glowing in annoyance. “We’ll get ‘em... Probably.”

She hears Lucas’s ink tank beep twice as he twists suddenly, the loud _BANG_ echoing through the arena. A second later, and the last of the Ballpoint’s long-range shots hits him in the face and then he explodes in a blast of blue ink.

Fucking excellent.

Four ducks behind the goal and then unleashes a barrage of Tenta Missiles, and Dana runs off the side path, trying to flank them. Eight swims straight ahead, then pops up to briefly cover a patch of blue. Her special meter’s almost full, but they’re right _there-_

The all-too familiar clapping of the blaster shot gets louder as they move up The Ramp, and Eight skirts back. She wonders if they can see the ripples she leaves in the ink, and she thinks she’s safe but then the Forge Pro charges up a Rainmaker blast.

Eight veers far to the right, hitting her head against the wall as the scorching explosion shakes the ink around her again. Four darts out from behind the goal, landing a few hits on the Rapid Blaster, and then her tank beeps twice. Finally!!

Still, his shots managed to cover most of the goal, and Eight briefly recoats the blue patch left from the Rainmaker. Her special meter fills and she activates her Inkjet. She feels Dana honing in on her position, but she doesn’t know if she’ll make it in time. The counter’s ticking down - ten! nine! - and the Forge Pro is almost on the goal, so Eight aims a shot and shoots-

Her tank beeps twice.

Four immediately starts shooting at the shield and Eight swerves to the right, shooting at the Bamboozler who manages to get out of the way. She forms a Curling Bomb and swims down the path it leaves, Eight shooting at her all the while.

Five! Four!...

Dana crashes down with a Splashdown, coating the goal in a wave of orange ink. The shield explodes - three! two!

“What the fuck are you waiting for?!” Eight yells, launching another Inkjet shot at the fleeing Bamboozler. “Grab it, hurry!”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Four swims over and grabs the Rainmaker. The overtime buzzers start blaring and they’re deafening. Eight feels the Inkjet start to overheat and fires one last shot at the Bamboozler. As the force from the Inkjet propels her back onto solid ground, her ink tank beeps twice - the Bamboozler was splatted.

Dana slides ahead, the trail of ink from her Inkbrush providing a nice path. The light from Lucas’s charger is quickly followed with a beam of ink, making a wider path.

Eight’s ink tank whirs loudly when she pops up again near the bridge, seeing the Rapid Blaster in the distance. Her normally hidden rings blaze a bright ultramarine as a warning, and Eight doesn’t care enough right now to try and hide them again.

“Rapid’s up ahead,” she mutters, and Four nods, charging up a shot. The shot lands near the Rapid Blaster, who swims out of the way and tosses a vial of Toxic Mist at them. Four skirts backwards while Eight forces herself through it, ignoring the burning pain in her lungs.

It drained a little more than 5% of her ink, so she still has enough for a Splat Bomb, but she hears the familiar whirring of a splatling charging up. The blaster shoots at her twice, one missing and one grazing her with the explosion, but if she gets a little closer, then _FUCK, THE SPLATLING’S CHARGED-_

She swears under her breath, darting forward and dodging a shaky shot from the blaster. Eight presses the nozzle of her Octo Shot Replica up to the Rapid Blaster’s face and holds down on the trigger for dear life, hoping and praying that the reheating time of the weapon will be enough for Eight to splat him. He explodes in a blast of orange ink.

She casts a glance at the Ballpoint, who had just finished shooting the rapid short-range shots. The long range ones aren’t aimed at Eight and rather Four, and shit this is bad. Four’s currently pressed against the side of the bridge in squid form, the timer ticking down audibly. Lucas lines up a shot with the Ballpoint’s forehead at the same time Eight starts shooting at her, and he lets go of the trigger with an audible _BANG._

Eight’s ink tank beeps once, counting her assist - good.

Four swims out of her hiding spot and catches up with Eight. “Where’s Dana?” she breathes, but a high-pitched frequency echoes through the arena. Splatted, then. “Oh, good.”

“I can cover you,” Eight mutters as Lucas swims off his perch and onto the small box atop the bridge.

Four nods.

“Follow me,” she tells her, swimming off the side of the bridge to reach the side. She charges the shot halfway to make a small path for the two of them. Lucas remains on the bridge. Maybe he sees someone over there or something, because he has a shot charged and-

 _BANG!_ \- Eight thinks she hears his tank beep.

“Bamboozler again,” he calls.

Eight swims ahead of Four, stopping abruptly and shifting back to humanoid form at the sound of gunfire. The shots seem to be actual shots this time, so... It’s the Forge Pro, right? Eight catches a glimpse of the blue tentacles as she yells at Four to get back, and then he pulls out his Bubble Wand. Eight knows that she lacks the firepower to shred through them, and even less so when she hears the Bamboozler’s fully-charged shots hitting them. She tries to swim backwards but there’s not a lot of places to go, and they’re about to burst-

“HOWDY, FUCKERS!” Dana roars as she descends with a Splashdown. While Dana’s Splashdown armor ate most of the bubbles’ damage, the parts it couldn’t take were blocked with Eight’s face. “Did you miss me?” she coos with a smile.

“Play the game,” Four replies with an eye roll, laughing slightly. “Although that was pretty cool.”

Eight would compliment Dana if her head wasn’t throbbing, but she gives her a shaky thumbs-up and then pops down into the ink. Dana pushes ahead, leaving a path of ink behind that Four covers with another partially-charged shot. Eight swims behind them once she figures out which direction is up, Lucas following suit.

Eight pops up briefly to cover some of the blue ink on the ground, feeling her special meter fill. She casts a glance over at Lucas, whose mantle is also flaring with bioluminescence.

She hears a high-pitched, warbling frequency from up ahead - _“This way!”_ from Dana. And then she hears it again afterwards, so Eight swims ahead because there's probably a reason as to why Dana is yelling at them to hurry up.

The Ballpoint charges up another shot as Four approaches the goal. Eight can hear the Rainmaker’s timer growing louder and louder, so they should hurry up. Eight forms a Splat Bomb and rolls it towards the Ballpoint, forcing her to shift into squid form to get away from the explosion. She forms a vial of Toxic Mist and hurls it at Dana and Four, but Dana knocks it aside with the handle of her Inkbrush.

“Is that even legal?!” the Ballpoint yelps as the vial smashes against the wall. “I don’t think that’s legal!”

“It is,” mutters the Bamboozler as she readies another shot, “Unfortunately.”

“That’s bullshit,” she growls, firing a round of short-range shots at Four, who swims away from the barrage. Her mantle then flares up in a dazzling display of blues and greens and she activates her special - Inkjet. Eight activates hers as well, readying her weapon. The heating time is still too slow, and the Ballpoint launches a shot at Four. The shot barely misses, grazing her with a visible stain. She readies it again, and Eight lines up hers with the Ballpoint’s face and fires.

She flies higher with a sudden push from her thrusters, swerving right, the shot barely missing.

{Get out of the way!} Lucas barks, and Eight switches to octopus form, dropping suddenly as the Inkjet blast flies over her head. He lines up a shot and fires with a loud _BANG,_ but the shot is slightly off and the Ballpoint fires at him.

Eight swims to the right and fires a shot at the Bamboozler, who lines up a shot that hits Eight square in the chest, eliciting a sharp yelp. She goes to shoot again but a blast from the Rainmaker forces her shot to be off, and she swims backwards. Dana rolls a Splat Bombs towards her, and she’s sandwiched against the wall - with two beeps from Dana’s tank, that’s one less member to take care of.

Lucas twists suddenly and the shot shreds through the Inkjet, his tank beeping twice and Eight’s beeping once. That’s two down, then...

Eight spies the Forge Pro, shooting at Four. Dana tosses a Splat Bomb up onto the ledge, and he scoots back, not without taking Dana out. The frequency she emits is deeper and more stable... Why is Dana _“Booyah!”-_ ing right now?

Feeling the Inkjet start to overheat again, Eight fires one last shot at the Forge Pro, which misses, and she’s then launched back to the ground.

The other two haven’t respawned yet - at this proximity, they’d all be able to hear the respawn point ding. Though, that begs the question... Where’s the Rapid Blaster?

A loud, screechy frequency erupts from behind Eight. She whirls around to see him erupt in a blaze of blue ink, with the Rapid Blaster standing behind him.

He wipes some of the blue ink off his cheek and readies his gun.

“Shit.” Eight isn’t sure if it’s her or Four that says that. She also isn’t sure if it matters.

Eight forms a Splat Bomb and throws it at him as hard as she can, then hooks an arm around Four’s waist and pulls her over to the left side of the car replica. She squawks indignantly but doesn’t protest. “Follow me,” Eight mutters, “And if I tell you to run, you fucking run.”

“Okay,” Four says quietly, the ticking of the Rainmaker growing louder and louder. “I’d say we have less than fifteen seconds to get this to work.”

“Fuck!” Eight yells at a much higher volume, readying her weapon and shooting a path towards the goal. She swims ahead of Four, letting her ink recharge slightly before tossing another bomb at the Rapid Blaster. Four follows behind her, and the Forge Pro leaps down and fires at Eight. The side of the goal is inked, so Four can get up it, but-

A pellet of blue ink hits Eight in the face. Her marks are glowing the brightest they’ve ever have during her time on the surface, and she raises her gun and fires at him.

Her Octo Shot Replica doesn’t have the same firepower as the Forge Splattershot Pro, but it’s enough to distract him from shooting Four. Dana’s honed in on her position, but she probably won’t get there in time...

One last shot connects with Eight’s torso, and pain shoots through her body as she’s splatted. Distantly, she thinks she hears the clap of blaster shots echoing from behind her, but her world goes dark before she can truly be sure.

By the time she respawns, the overtime buzzers are gone. A loud whistle blares throughout the arena.

Eight looks up at the scoreboard on the ceiling.

The bars on both sides fill up to the 27 count, before suddenly launching forward and colliding. A flash of white covers the screen, and it fades. The bar is- It’s entirely orange, which means..!

“We won..!” she breathes, unable to stop herself from grinning. Four, Dana, and Lucas all superjump back to spawn, looking relatively pleased.

“We did it!” Four says. She looks decently beat-up, with large blue stains covering her arms and a small one on her cheek. Those are definitely going to be sore later. “You guys all did really well.”

“Wasn’t my Splashdown cool?!” Dana gushes, a cloudy pattern of greens and yellows dancing about her tentacles. “It was cool, right?”

“It looked cool,” Lucas replies. Eight’s still curious about his voice - the accent, sure, she has one too, but the warped quality to it... It’s interesting. “Thought you probably could have said something a little better than ‘Howdy, fuckers.’”

“Improv’s never been my strong suit!” she chirps back, slinging her Inkbrush over her shoulder. “It could have been like last time, though.”

Four rolls her eyes. “That was just _sad,_ Dana.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad, c’mon.” She pokes Four in the cheek, who bats her hand away. “Aaanyways, Eight!”

“Yes?”

“That Inkjet thing? Like, right before overtime? That was really cooool!” Dana’s bright smile fades in an instant as it's replaced with a dark scowl. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

“... I didn’t sound like that, did I?” Eight asks quietly, following them back into the lobby.

“Yeah, you... Kinda did,” Four admits. Eight sighs. “You wanna play a few more matches? We’ve got time, I think.”

“Oooobviously!” Dana replies. Lucas merely nods.

“Can I clean my filter first?” Eight asks.

“Already?”

“Well, I played hard that match... And I don’t want to get disconnected.”

Four shrugs and then nods. “Sure. We still have time between matches, anyways.”

Oh. Right. That was a thing.

Four pulls their trackers out from the slots in the wall and hands them back. Eight takes hers and then gets her bag back from the small compartment beneath it. At the same time, the other team walks back into the lobby.

“Hey!” says the Forge Pro with a wave. “That was a good match.”

“Oh, thank you!” Four replies in the sugar-sweet disgustingly fake voice that makes Eight’s skin crawl. “You guys played well, too!”

They talk for a bit and then he writes something down on a slip of paper, handing it to Four. He then follows the rest of his team out of the lobby, and Four sighs and shoves it in her pocket.

“Friend code,” she mumbles, “He wants to play more sometime.”

“He wasn’t bad,” Lucas muses, “Although that Bamboozler wasn’t the best... How much Respawn Up do you think she was wearing?”

“Maybe twelve slots,” Dana replies. “She’s probably better off just using the Nozzlenose or something at that rate...”

“Pathetic,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. They follow Four as she rounds the corner, walking further down the hall.

“What is this room?” Eight asks as Four holds open the door. “It’s not like any of the others...”

“It’s a waiting room,” she explains. “Since we’re registered and on the queue, we can just wait here for a bit. There’s also weapon maintaining supplies and stuff.” Once they’re all in, she gestures at a few bins lined up against the wall.

“Oh,” says Eight. “Okay.” Gingerly, she walks over and sits down on the ground beside one. The room is relatively empty for its size, but Eight has a feeling it’s pretty packed earlier in the day. She takes a tank cleaning kit from a bin and takes the lid off her tank, popping the filter out. The once-white disc is now mostly blue... She’s lucky this room exists then, huh?

Four takes a seat at one of the chairs lining the walls. “We have four minutes before the next match... It’s D12(06), so that’s Albacore.”

Eight nods absentmindedly, scrubbing at a large patch of solidified venom. It flakes off onto the ground. Once her filter is relatively clean, she pops the filter back in and screws the lid onto her ink tank once more. She pulls her phone out of her bag and turns it on.

 **You, 5:01 PM:** Hi, Three!

 **You, 5:01 PM:** How are things there?

 **Three, 5:03 PM:** [image attached]

 **Three, 5:03 PM:** We put it out

Eight taps the image she sent and enlarges it. There’s... Something on the counter, covered in a frothy white liquid - oh, and there’s Pearl with the fire extinguisher, what? - and it looks like it’s smoking a lot... Marina’s squinting at the smoldering mess with her hand on her chin, while a very frazzled Three is caught in the corner of the picture. Eight can’t really see her face, but she thinks her eyes are very, very bloodshot with how blue they are...

 **You, 5:04 PM:** What?

 **You, 5:04 PM:** Three, what happened????

 **Three, 5:04 PM:** The fucking microwave was on fire

 **Three, 5:05 PM:** Not anymore

 **You, 5:05 PM:** WHY was the microwave on fire?????

 **Three, 5:06 PM:** Marina made a floating cube

 **Three, 5:06 PM:** And then the microwave was on fire

 **You, 5:06 PM:** I feel like you’re leaving out some important details here...

 **Three, 5:07 PM:** No I’m not that’s what happened

 **Three, 5:07 PM:** Ask Pearl if you want she has my back

 **You, 5:07 PM:** I’ll... Be sure to

 **Three, 5:07 PM:** So how are things there?

 **You, 5:08 PM:** They’re good, I guess?

 **You, 5:08 PM:** But... Are you okay, Three?

 **Three, 5:08 PM:** As okay as I can be given the circumstances

 **Three, 5:08 PM:** Fucking Pearl wants me to get off my phone and help with this *please*

 **Three, 5:09 PM:** So I’ll see you later

 **Three, 5:09 PM:** Hopefully not in a jail cell

 **You, 5:09 PM:** Um... Okay

 **You, 5:09 PM:** I’ll see you! Stay safe

 **Three, 5:09 PM:** I promise nothing

Eight sighs quietly, shaking her head.

“What’s up?” Four asks.

“I don’t understand how they managed to set the microwave on fire...” Eight mumbles. A look of resignation flashes across Four’s face.

“... Yeah,” she mutters, “I don’t either.”

Eight really loves Pearl and Marina, but... Wow.

She really pities Three right now.

She’ll... Hopefully be okay when they get back though.

Right..?

* * *

 

They played a few more matches, and then the rotation ended. They won a good amount of them, while some they lost by a hair, and then one they lost _horribly_ and Eight is still a little bitter because a team of four rollers shouldn’t be that good.

As they walk back to Four’s car, Eight gingerly tugs at Four’s sleeve.

“Um,” she starts, still a little nervous, “Was I accepted, do you think?”

“Mhm,” Four replies. “Yeah, probably. You’re very, uh... Objective-oriented, which is something we can use. And Dana seems to like you, too. Hopefully Lucas accepts the offer...”

“I’m sure he will!” Eight says. “I’m just... Happy it went as well as it did.”

“Yeah,” Four mumbles, voice soft. “Yeah, me too.”

(On the drive back, Four continues playing Warm Ink. Eight can’t say she hates it as much as she did last time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i chose to update this early because ill be at a hotel all weekend. something about celebrating my 16th birthday or something like that. i dont really understand the cultural obsession with 16th birthdays tbh... like, congrats, you are more than halfway to the age of 30!! uh, so, because of that, comment replies that i dont get to today (the 21st) ill try and get to on monday or something because the hotel might not have wifi.  
> i have chapter 7 written, so itll come out as scheduled on the 30th!


	7. In which Three goes on a dinosaur adventure

Three hears a familiar beep in the driveway. A few seconds pass and then she hears car doors shut, followed by talking that she doesn’t care enough about to pay attention to.

The chatter stops abruptly.

“Um,” says someone who sounds a fuck of a lot like Eight, “Three? Are you okay?”

Three opens her eyes and looks up, vision blurry and eyes bloodshot.

“Oh my god,” says the taller green blob that vaguely resembles a person and sounds like Four. “Are you high?”

“I still don’t know what that means,” the slightly-shorter-yet-still-far-above-average-height blue-purple blob that vaguely resembles a person and sounds like Eight mumbles. “But are you... Okay?”

“Hi,” she rasps and waves in their general direction.

“You sound like shit,” Four comments, looking down at her. “... What happened, exactly?”

“I fucking told you.” Three sighs. “The microwave?”

“Yeah, the _microwave_ caught on fire... Not you.” Very observant, Four.

“Who do you think had to put it out?”

Three cannot see but she assumes the look Four is giving her is the most incredulous look known to cephalokind. “Oh, you’re kidding me, right..?”

Three makes a vague gesture towards her everything. “Am I, Sarah? Am I?”

Four responds by bending down and burying her nose in Three’s mantle. She pulls away, hacking.

“What the fuck did you _think_ you’d get?” she asks.

“... Four?” Eight cocks her head slightly, watching Four with worry. “Are you... Okay?”

“You smell like ten years of scorched _shit,”_ she wheezes. 

“Thanks,” Three mumbles and pushes herself off the ground. “Oh, uh... What’s in the bags?”

“Stuff,” Eight replies. What a fucking surprise. “Party stuff.”

Three looks over at Four for some clarification. Some answers. Fucking something.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead of elaborating like a good friend. “Party stuff.”

Three rolls her eyes. “That’s not fucking helpful.”

“Too bad! That’s what it is.” Eight sticks her tongue out.

“Put that away, that’s gross,” Three mutters. Eight makes a “Nyeeeeh” noise. “Eight, come on.”

“Make me!”

Oh, you _bitch._ Three ABSOLUTELY cannot let Eight get away with a ‘make me.’ She opens her mouth to speak-

Four clears her throat loudly. “Can you guys wait until we, like... Get inside?”

Three rolls her eyes. “Fine, but...” She briefly fishes around in her pocket for her glasses case and puts them on. She took her contacts out a little bit ago because her entire eyes hurt. A lot. Probably because of the _flaming microwave._

How do you set a microwave on fire? What the fuck.

What did they even get, anyways? Three would try to look if her eyes didn't hurt and if Four wasn't waiting by the door impatiently.

Three sighs, opens the door, and then follows them in.

* * *

 

Pearl's mantle lights up orange when she sees Eight.

"Hey, you're back!" Eight nods. "How were things?"

"They were good. How come you never explained Splatoween to me before?" Eight asks.

"... We were going to," Pearl mumbles. Right. Just like how they were going to throw Eight's party together. "Marina's in the kitchen."

Eight's eyes widen. "You're  _letting_ her go there?"

"It's not to cook!"

Eight sighs, relieved. "Oh, thank the gods. Nothing's on fire now, right?"

"Not... Now." Pearl and Three share a glance. "Uh... So. You guys got stuff?"

Four nods, holding up the two bags in her hands. "Streamers, hats, plates, a skeleton-"

"A  **what.** " Three doesn't know if it's her or Pearl that says that, but it doesn't matter, either.

"A skeleton," Eight answers as if that means anything. "It's a skeleton."

"I-" Pearl furrows her brow. Eight just smiles at her. "Okay. Sure. Whatever. You have a skeleton now."

"Yes! I  _do."_  She quietly clears her throat. "Um... Is it okay if I bring this stuff upstairs?"

"I don't see why not," Pearl says with a small shrug. "Is there anything you need to keep down here?"

Eight thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. "No, the plates and stuff are in Four's bags."

Pearl nods.

Eight hesitates instead of going to the stairs. Three's about to ask when Eight suddenly scoops her up and slings her over her shoulder

“Eight,” Three wheezes, “What the fuck.”

“I have some _questions_ for you, Three," is the only answer she gets as Eight starts speedwalking up the stairs.  _OOOOOOOH_ look at Eight with her  _working legs._

How  _rude._

“Fucking what? And can you  _please_ put me down?”

“If you walked faster maybe I wouldn’t have to carry you,” Eight retorts, finishing her climb up the stairs. Seeing is a little hard right now and her head is throbbing a little, but the upstairs of the house seems to be just as fancy as the downstairs. Oh wait is that a fucking Rembrandt? Three squirms a little in Eight’s grip, who tuts at her. “We’re almost there, don’t worry.”

“Is that a Rembrandt?” she asks, and Eight shrugs, digging her shoulder into Three’s stomach. “Do you have a fucking work-out routine or something? And what the hell’s in the bag??”

“A skeleton,” she states plainly. “And no, I’m not super active. What’s a Rembrandt?”

It takes a lot of effort to not nerd-out about art right then and there. “He was a painter but his paintings are also referred to as Rembrandts? He’s a pretty important artist, I guess. I’ve only seen them in like... Museums and shit, do you know if it’s authentic? Can you _please_ put me down so I can look?”

Eight responds by half-nudging, half-kicking a door open. Despite the light not being on, it’s fairly well-lit, with sunlight streaming in through a window. She sets the bag down and pretty much slams Three down on the bed which is, admittedly, a little hot but also _OW._ “Sorry,” she mumbles when Three glares at her. “I don’t know anything about the paintings here, but I could ask Pearl if you want?”

“I’ll ask her sometime,” she says, sitting up. Shit, her room’s nice. Well. Okay, that’s kind of expected, given the fact that they live in Sunset Court, but goddamn... Eight takes a seat on the carpet as she unloads the plastic bag of shit, so Three looks around.

It’s... Nice. Very nice.

There’s a desk by the window with a small lamp on it, and a few tiny succulents that miraculously haven’t died. Or, well, maybe it’s not a miracle? Eight looks competent, like she wouldn’t forget to water them after owning them for two days. It’s a bit messy, with papers and pens strewn about it, but the mess is... Almost contained. Above the desk is a shelf that matches it, with a bunch of... Stuff on it. They almost look like erasers..? Some of them have tiny chunks missing, but they’re all relatively cute. Oh, wait, is that one Pearl? And next to it is Marina, and then Marie, and- Well, that’s Callie, but she’s dressed like... Uh- Wait, why is there an Octavio eraser?

“Eight?” She looks up, holding the world’s shittiest Splatoween decoration in her hands. “What are those?” Three points at the shelf.

“Oh.” She grimaces. “Those are, um... Mem cakes, I think they’re called. They... I don’t know how to really describe them. I’d get one after a test, and... If I eat one, I get some of my memories back. There’s eighty total.”

“How... Many have you eaten?” Three asks. Eight shifts and the inkling skeleton falls over.

“I haven’t,” she mumbles. “I don’t... I don’t really want to know my past. Like, the more I think about it... Everything points to me not liking who I was, if that... Makes any sense. I mean, Marina hacked into the Valley database, and she has my file, and... She’s offered to show it to me. But I don’t want to know.” Eight pulls her knees up to her chest. “But... Three.”

“Huh?”

“Did...” Her voice is quiet and barely above a whisper. “Did we know each other? Before... Everything? Um, I mean... Well, we fought, but... Do you remember it..?”

“... Yeah,” Three breathes after a long pause. “We... Fought. I, uh... You wanna know about it?” Eight hesitates before nodding. “You... Uh, you were... Violent.”

“Violent..?” Eight mumbles, cocking her head to the side. “... Is it okay if I ask you to elaborate?”

There’s a part of Three that doesn’t want to, at all, but she thinks Eight deserves to know.

“You were... Brutal. I don’t know how else to describe it. It was near Nantai, and... You almost killed me, and... You seemed so _happy_ about it, too.” Three remembers that fight well - too well. She remembers Eight’s jagged smile, the unconstrained glee in her eyes, and the bright, blood-colored rings marking her skin. When she looks at the Eight on the ground here, she looks guilty, with slightly-pursed lips and eyes fixated on the floor rather than Three’s face, and her rings are hidden, not glowing and the same color as her skin. 

“... I’m sorry, Three,” she says quietly, resting her head on her knees. “I... Do you hate me for that?”

“No.” Three doesn’t think she could ever hate Eight. In the end, they were all doing what they were told. Yet... At the same time, there was something _odd_ about that encounter. Eight was... Alone. And for someone who is, apparently, the most hated inkling in the underground, it seemed strange to send only one octoling after her, no matter that octoling’s training. And on top of that, Eight didn’t really look like she was looking for Three in the first place. Was Eight trying to escape then, too..? Three doesn’t really understand it. Three doesn’t think she ever will. “I’d never hate you, Eight.”

“Four did,” Eight says softly. “Four wanted me dead. She _told_ me she did. And... I don’t blame her for it. If I were in her position, I’d hate me too. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I were in yours.”

“I knew what I was signing up for,” Three replies, and it’s only a half-lie. Truth be told, once the Zapfish was back, she had the option to leave the NSS. Four had _begged_ her to leave it, too, because it was dangerous. Because every time Four saw her, she had a new cut, a new scrape. Three knew it hurt her, seeing her like that, but she had to do it. If Three didn’t do it, no one else would, right? And that would be her mark on the world. It would give her insignificant, worthless life meaning. “It’s okay, Eight. If I was scared of getting hurt, I wouldn’t have done this for two years.”

“I... But, it doesn’t matter if you’re scared of it. What matters is that you _were._ ” Eight pushes herself off the ground and walks over to Three. Her thumbs hook under the bottom of Three’s shirt, and she looks at her, waiting for approval. Three nods and Eight rolls it up. Her fingers lightly trace the raised, blueish scars littering her torso, winding and twisting. The largest one, the one that’s slightly faded yet so much darker than all the others no matter how much lightening cream she uses, starts at her leftmost heart and curves down below her bottom-right gill slit. She runs her thumb over it once, twice - then bends down and kisses it. A second passes and Three feels something wet on her skin. Two more and then Eight pulls away, and-

“Eight... Are you crying?” Three bends forward, cupping her face in her hands. She wipes away some of her tears, only for more to fall.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice shaking and wavering and _breaking._ “I’m so, so sorry, Three.”

“It’s okay, Eight,” Three comforts, and she’s not lying this time. “It’s okay.”

“You’re too _good_ for me,” she murmurs, sniffling. “I don’t... I don’t get it.”

“I should be the one saying that,” Three mumbles, meaning every word. “Eight... I really like you. A lot. And... You know, there’s no one else I’d rather date.”

“Not even Four?” she asks.

Three shakes her head ‘no.’ “Definitely not. We’re both bottoms, there’s no way that’d work out.”

Eight laughs the laugh Three loves to hear. “Duly noted,” she mumbles. “And... You too. I don’t want to date anyone else.”

“Not Four?”

“Too much Carly Mantaray.”

Three laughs. “Yeah... You’re right.”

“Oh, um... Three?” Eight lifts a hand off the bed to bed to grab one of Three’s longer tentacles. “What... Do the colors mean?”

“Uh...” Three looks down at it. There’s a rippling pattern of yellows and pinks atop a mass of blotches in Eight’s purple. “The purple is your ink, and it’s there because... I like you. Um, the yellow is because I’m happy, and... Pink is... Romantic.”

“I make you happy..?” Eight asks, softly rubbing circles into the limb. The parts that she touches turn her color before fading back to yellow and pink. Three nods. “I’m... I’m glad.”

Three tilts Eight’s head up and gently kisses her forehead. Eight giggles softly.

“Did you just giggle?” she asks, pulling away.

Eight blushes in her hands and Three can feel the warmth. “No.”

“You did..!” Three laughs and presses another kiss to Eight’s forehead. She feels her face grow hotter in her grasp. “You _nerd.”_

“I’m not a _nerd,_ you butt..!!” lies the nerd. “Giggling is for stupid butts like _you.”_ Eight punctuates it by forcefully poking Three in the cheek.

“Wroooooong,” protests Three.

“Riiiiiiiiiiight,” counters Eight.

“Nooooo.”

“Yeeeees.”

“Iiiiiiincorrect.”

Eight responds by making a few noises that probably don’t mean anything in any language then gently bonks her head against Three’s stomach. “Bleh.”

“... Bleh,” Three repeats.

Eight nods against her stomach. “Bleh.”

“Bleh...”

The final ‘bleh’ hangs heavy in the air until Eight slowly breathes out and pushes herself off Three.

“And where are _you_ going?” Three asks.

_“I’m_ going to go shower,” Eight says, standing up. She pulls her shirt off and drops it to the ground. The part of Three’s brain that wants to have a shred of dignity is yelling at her to look away, but the louder, gayer part of her is still freaking out because _eight is shirtless and she is Right There dear god?????_ and that part of her is the one that wins this fight. “Do you want to come with?”

“What,” Three breathes because she thinks she heard that incorrectly. “Uh. Repeat that?”

Eight laughs and Three thinks she died for a moment because there’s no way a laugh that wonderful could ever exist on Earth.

“Do you want to shower with me?” she asks again, and no Three doesn’t pinch herself, that’s stupid. “I smell like sweat and ink, and you smell like sweat and burning. And... I missed you today, and I wanna spend some time with you.”

“Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyes, sure, I am, uh, one hundred percent down, uh, but like, I don’t wanna impose, because I don’t want to, and, you know, are you comfy with that kind of thing, like, I am, don’t get me wrong, but-” Three stops babbling when Eight laughs again.

“Oh, Three,” she murmurs, “Never change.”

“Sorry,” Three mumbles, looking down at the ground. “But, uh... You’re serious..?”

“Three, please. I’m not asking you to have sex with me.”

Three looks up from the carpet briefly to make eye contact with Eight and then she gets a fun _slew_ of mental images she REALLY didn’t need right now holy fuck but still it’s not like that’s a thing Three thinks about a lot, like, it’s kind of low on the list of Eight-related things Three thinks about a lot, like, item five out of seventeen, which doesn’t seem that low now that she says it but she swears the top four are like 65% of the theoretical pie chart this would make, and item five is like, 10%, and the other twelve there are about, like, other things that escape Three right now, but, guh, that’s not- this isn’t- this totally isn’t FAIR damn you eight-

“I...” Three says in a voice much smaller than she wants it to be, “I wasn’t... I didn’t think you were, I just, um...”

“You just what?” Eight asks, cocking her head slightly. Three bites her lip. “... Ah. Forget it. Are you coming?”

“Um... Yeah, I’ll... Just, gimme a mo...” Three’s voice trails off as Eight continues to undress. “... Oh.”

“Arteth thou enraptured with thineth beauty... Eth?” Eight asks. The part of Three that is a theater kid should be very mad at the linguistic slaughter Eight just committed but Three just. She. Guh. Fuh...

**_gorl..._ **

“... Three..?” Eight takes a few steps closer, concern evident on her face. “Are you... Okay?”

Three hears a noise that’s kind of like “Ghughfubgughg...” and belatedly realizes that it’s _her_ making that noise. Eight gingerly lays a hand down on her leg and then suddenly the world is very tall and Three is very flat.

“... Three, come on. I’m not even naked,” Eight says in an attempt to console her but those are the Words, the Bad Words, because Three is, she, **_gorl........._ ** “Can you... Shift back for me? Please? You’re going to get ink everywhere.”

Three is still trying to process everything when Eight sighs and scoops up all one-hundred and twelve pounds of squid and unceremoniously hoists her over her shoulder again. And that is really not helping the situation because, **_gorl, strong, Gorl,..._ **

“... You’re kind of heavy,” she comments, oblivious to Three’s plight. “Squishy, too.”

Three responds by continuing to be a squid.

Eight kicks open the bathroom door and sets Three down on the ground with a small grunt. She gingerly steps over her squiddy body and leaves the room. About a minute later, and she comes back with a bunch of towels, opting to set them down on the sink counter.

Three decides to continue being a gay squid.

Eight eventually turns the water on and sighs at Three, who is still being a squid. She grabs one of the towels and wraps it around herself as she waits for either to water to fill the tub or Three to stop being gay and stupid.

_Eventually,_ Three calms down enough to pop back into humanoid form. And... Ah. Shit. She’s still clothed.

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable,” Eight says. She takes her tentacles out of their ponytail, and the long one towards the top of her head droops down over her right eye.

“I... I _want_ to, it’s just... You know.” She fumbles with her pants as she goes to remove them. “... I guess I’m just nervous.”

“I won’t judge, Three. I like you. You know that.” Three can feel Eight’s eyes on her as she continues to undress. “Even if you kick my ass in Monopoly.”

“It’s a game that requires _skill.”_ Now nude, Three awkwardly holds her mound of moderately filthy clothes. “And, um... Where do you want me to put these..?”

“Just leave them in the other room somewhere. It doesn’t really matter.” Three nods and stands up.

Nudging the door open with her foot, she looks around the room briefly before deciding to just put them down on the wall next to the door.

Reentering the bathroom, she makes eye contact with Eight. Three feels her face warm and she just feels... Exposed. Which, in a way, she... She _is,_ but...

Eight removes the towel. Three’s face warms even more and she decides to stare at the tile.

She hears the fabric ruffle as Eight folds it and sets it back with the rest.

“It’s ready,” Eight tells her. Three nods and looks over to see Eight stepping into the bath. Towards the side of it are two small hand towels draped over the edge.

... What the fuck? That’s a giant fucking bathtub.

“It’s huge,” Three mumbles. Eight shrugs. “Why..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t make it. You should see the one in Pearl’s room, honestly.”

Three doesn’t even _want_ to imagine.

Gingerly, she steps in and hastily grabs the side of the tub when she feels herself slip.

“Careful..!” Eight warns, leaning forward to grab Three’s hips as she steadies her. The sudden contact causes Three to slip again, but she luckily doesn’t fall. “... Gods, Three, you’re a mess.”

“... Shut up.” Slowly, she sinks into the water. It’s warm, although not as hot as Three prefers. It’s better than freezing cold water, at the very least. “Um, so...” Three shifts awkwardly, unsure if she should try and cover up or not, or...

“Do you mind if I wash you?” Eight asks. Three was expecting the question, but that doesn’t stop her from blushing more. “Or... Not.”

“No, it... It’s fine. Go... Ahead.” Eight gives her a somewhat concerned look. “... Really. It’s fine.”

“... Okay.” Eight grabs one of the hand towels and pushes it beneath the water. “Come closer?”

Three scoots towards her.

Eight pulls the cloth out of the water and uncaps a bottle of body wash. Three can’t see the label without her glasses, but it’s pink and it smells vaguely like flowers when Eight pours it out. She lathes it and gently takes one of Three’s arms and starts to wash it.

Slowly, Three starts to relax, letting her posture loosen as she slouches more. Eight’s free hand hooks around Three’s neck and gently taps at her siphon, causing her to jump.

“Your posture’s awful,” she chides. Three rolls her eyes. “I’m serious! You’re going to look like Mr. Cuttlefish before you’re twenty.”

“Okay, _Mom.”_ Eight sighs. “What? It’s fine. I’m not dead.”

“You’ll wish you were, though.”

“Already do,” she jokes. Eight glares at her. “Fine, fine, sheesh...”

Eight cups some of the water in her hand and then washes the soap off Three’s arm. “Don’t joke about that.”

“... Okay.”

Eight gently scrubs at the skin on Three’s neck. The washcloth comes back covered in Three’s make-up, which formerly hid the hickeys Eight left.

“Three, did you... Paint your skin?” Eight looks at the towel and then back at Three.

“It’s make-up. Generally speaking, hickeys aren’t... Y’know. Professional to just have... Hanging out.”

“Do you want me to stop giving you them, then?” Eight cocks her head slightly.

“No,” Three says maybe a little too fast. “They’re not hard to hide, anyways.”

“If you’re just going to hide them, what’s the point in getting them, then?”

“... They feel nice,” she mumbles. Eight’s quiet for a few seconds and then she shrugs.

“I mean... I guess that’s an answer.” Eight swishes the rag around in the water, rinsing the make-up off, and then pours some more soap on it and continues. “Oh, so... Are you wearing make-up on your face, too? Should I wash your face?” Eight asks, holding up the washcloth. Without waiting for her response, she presses it to Three’s face and gently scrubs at it.

Wrinkling her nose, Three pulls her head back and nearly falls over. “Are you trying to fucking smother me?!” she snaps, but Eight only laughs and kisses her rather soapy nose. A second later and Eight wipes her mouth, grimacing slightly.

“It doesn’t taste as good as it smells...” she mumbles.

“What the fuck, Eight?” Eight blushes. “Did- What the hell did you _think_ it’d taste like?”

“Um... Not that.” Three snickers. “Don’t laugh at me, you meanie..!”

Three takes the opportunity to laugh a very exaggerated three-pronged laugh at her. Eight wipes the rest of the soap off Three’s nose with one smooth swipe and then jams the soapy finger in Three’s mouth.

“... Three? What’s that thingy?”

“The _what?”_  

Eight pulls her mouth open and taps at her tongue piercing. “What is that?” she asks, moving her hands off Three’s face.

“It’s a tongue piercing.” Eight furrows her brow. “I usually put in a clear retainer since it’s out of dress code for where I work.”

“Oh.” Eight looks over the rest of Three. “Are all the other metal thingies piercings, too?”

Three nods.

“That’s... A lot,” she comments. “You got your gill slits pierced, too? Why?”

“I got the ones behind my ear pierced first.” Three turns her head to let Eight see. “But then the sound was warped, except only in that part. And I really hated that, so I got the rest pierced.”

“... Didn’t it hurt?”

“Yeah. They hurt like hell.” She thought the ones behind her ears were bad, but the slits on her torso hurt _waaaay_ more. For a few days, even moving was painful. “I made the mistake of getting all twelve done at once.”

_“Twelve?”_ Three nods. Eight purses her lips. “... How many do you _have?”_

“Uh...” Eighteen total gill piercings, one stud in her nose, her tongue piercing, the two piercings in her left ear... “I think... Twenty-two?”

“Three. Why.” She shrugs. “That’s so many.”

“I guess. They’re barely visible, though.”

Eight rolls her eyes. “Yeah, so what’s the point?”

“Well, _I_ know they’re there. And I like them.”

She sighs quietly. “Fine. I _guess_ that almost makes sense.” Eight hesitates before moving the washcloth again. “Is it okay if I wash your gills, or are they sensitive?”

“Just don’t tear them.” Eight nods and gently washes them, being overly careful. Eventually, she finishes, and washes the soap off.

Silence settles over them as Eight continues to wash her. Once the initial rush of _aaaaaa_ **_gorl_ ** wears off, it’s... Peaceful. Relaxing. Three needs something like this after everything today, she thinks, even if she didn’t do any intense _physical_ work, everything that happened today was... Tiring. And... Maybe Three missed Eight after all. ... But only maybe.

...

Fine.

She did.

... _Maybe._

“... There,” Eight says finally, washing the rest of the soap off Three’s back. “All done.”

Three turns back around to face Eight. “Thanks,” she mumbles. Eight responds by gently patting her head. “Here, do you... Want me to do you?”

“... If you could, that’d be great,” Eight replies quietly. Three takes the cloth from her hand and washes the soap out, wrings it, then takes the bottle of body wash and lathers it. “I’m still kinda sore from earlier...”

Huh..?

Oh.

“You went turfing today, right?” She nods. “How was it?”

Three scoots closer and decides to start with Eight’s arms.

“It wasn’t bad. I think I might get accepted.”

“You tried out?”

“Mh.”

“Did you win?”

“Most of them.”

“Was Dana there?”

“Mh.”

“She’s a bitch, right?”

“Mm-mm.”

“... Seriously?”

“Mh.” Eight yawns as Three moves to her other arm. “She’s nice. Why?”

“Because she’s a bitch?”

Eight laughs quietly. “There was another potential recruit. He’s an octoling. His name’s Lucas.”

“Is he nice?”

“We didn’t talk much.”

“Was he... Y’know. Weird?”

“Um... He gave me a weird look when we first met by the lockers. He seemed a bit wary after our first match.” She sighs quietly. “I don’t know why.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around.” Hopefully they’ll learn that Eight is... Relatively harmless. Or _nice,_ at the very least. Maybe Eight was ‘bad’ once, but Three knows she’s changed. “Other than that, everything was okay?”

“Mhm.” 

Once Eight’s arms are clean, Three moves onto her torso.

“Oh, Eight...” Three gently taps at a green mark on her side, right below her lowest gill slit. “Is that from today?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, lifting her arm slightly as Three inches closer. “There was this _stupid_ Carbon Roller.”

“Did you win at least?” she asks, looking up at Eight.

“They got a knockout,” Eight grumbles. “The Carbon Roller hit me in the last few seconds, like, _really_ hard...”

Three pours some more soap onto the washcloth. Eight moves her arm out of the way, expecting Three to scrub at it, only to let out a small squeak when Three kisses it.

“What’s that about..?” she asks, blushing.

“I’m kissing it better,” Three replies softly, gently rubbing the soapy cloth against Eight’s skin. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No. It... Feels nice,” Eight admits. She shifts slightly, moving closer. Three could already reach her just fine, but she doesn’t mind at all. Three eventually pulls the washcloth away, and the part that she used to wash Eight with is stained green, but it fades once Three swishes it around in the bath water.

She pours some more soap onto it, then lathers it and starts washing Eight again. Silence quickly settles over them again, but it’s not awkward. It’s just... Comforting. Three knows that she could use some quiet after all the time she spent with Pearl today, and if any of the interactions Three’s had with Four over the past twelve years mean anything - and Dana, Tatzelwurm forbid - then Eight would probably appreciate it, too.

“Do you use anything special for your tentacles?” Three asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Oh, um... Yeah,” Eight says, taking the bottle of body wash from Three and closing it. “I think it’s, like, baby soap, but it’s really just because the chemicals in normal soap can burn a little. You know, since... Octarians.”

“They, uh... Isn’t reproduction through, like... Cuttings, or something..?” Eight nods. “So, um... Can you, like... Y’know.”

_“What??”_

Three feels her face warm. “I- Uh, you... Is it, like, pleasurable, or..?”

“Oh, you’re asking if it’s erogenous?” Eight asks, cocking her head to the side. Three nods, and Eight shakes her head. “No. That’s horrible design.”

“I... See.” Three bites at her lip. “Do... Do you want me to do it, or..?”

“Um... If you want to, sure? Don’t be too rough.” Eight pulls a bottle off the shelf, handing it to Three. She squints at the label - apparently it’s a gentle mixture used for inklings, from newly-hatched to age four. “It’s hard to find any shampoo without tentacle oil mixed it. It hurts, a lot.”

“Is, um... Is it okay if I move closer?” she asks. Eight nods. Three moves so that she’s sitting between Eight’s legs. She hesitates for a moment before moving a leg over Eight’s thigh.

“Just sit on my lap,” Eight mutters. “... Is this really enough to fluster you?”

“M-Maybe,” Three replies hastily, but she still does as Eight says. “Don’t you remember what I told you..?”

“Huh?” Three uncaps the bottle, pouring some of the soap into her hand. Eight holds the bottle off to the side while Three lathers it in her hands. “Oh, about... The, quote, ‘social pressure things?’ Somehow... I feel like this is beyond the average ‘social pressure thing.’”

“Yeah, but...” Three sighs, gently running her hands against Eight’s tentacles. “Still..! You know what I mean.”

Eight dips her head down, resting her face in the crook of Three’s neck. When she laughs, Three feels it throughout her entire body. “I know,” she murmurs. “I’m just teasing.”

“You’re an ass.” Three rolls her eyes with a small smile. Her thumb brushes against one of the many suckers and it briefly latches onto it. “... Did your hair just kiss me?”

“If you want to think of it like that, sure,” she replies. “Maybe it likes you.”

“You can control it, can’t you?” Eight’s free hand moves from the bottom of the tub up to the smaller tentacles on the back of Three’s head. She strokes them, claws running against them lightly.

“Kind of,” she replies, wrapping the tip of one of them around Three’s finger. It caresses the digit as Three pulls her hand away. “Hey, make sure you get the roots.”

“Okay.” Eight turns her head slightly, pressing a few kisses into Three’s neck. “Fuck, are you sure you’re not getting off to this?”

She laughs again. “You’d know,” she purrs. “You’d know.”

Three chooses to ignore the mental image that gives her. 

She presses her fingers against the roots as directed. They’re much warmer than the rest of Eight’s mantle, honestly, and tougher, too. Cutting these _had_ to be a nightmare, right? Well, there’s probably _some_ process to it that Three doesn’t know...

Eight’s hand drops down from her mantle to the top pair of slits on her torso, gently running her thumb over it. A few strokes and then she moves her hand up to Three’s face, caressing her cheek.

“What are you even doing, you nerd?” Three asks. Eight mumbles something incoherent into her neck and then kisses it again. “... Was that even Inkling?”

“I really like you,” she says quietly. “A lot.” Eight pulls away, untangling Three’s hands from her mantle. The next kiss she gives Three is on the lips and when Eight breaks it, she’s smiling. “The water’s getting cold.”

“... Yeah,” Three agrees with a sigh. She doesn’t really want to get out... Eight gently nudges Three back before dunking her head in the water. A few seconds pass and she pulls her head out. She runs a hand through the roots and it comes back soapless. 

“Hey... Eight?” Three says quietly as Eight climbs out to go get towels.

Eight looks over her shoulder. “Huh?”

“I really like you a lot, too.”

Eight blushes, turning back around. “Thanks,” she replies softly. Eight sets a towel down on the counter for Three, who opens the bathtub drain. Three stands up and squeezes some of the excess water off her tentacles. She steps out as it drains, finding a small towel beneath her feet.

“It’s so you don’t slip,” Eight mumbles. Fuck. Three should totally do that at her apartment when she gets the chance. Why didn’t she ever think of that.

Eight dries her tentacles before she starts drying the rest of herself, which is, funnily enough, the exact opposite of what Three does.

“Your clothes are dirty, aren’t they..?” Eight asks. “Here, I’ll lend you some of mine.”

“It’s fine, Eight,” Three mumbles, but Eight’s already out of the bathroom. She sighs. Eight’s... Nice. Really nice. Three wonders if she deserves someone like Eight, and... She still chalks them getting together up to divine intervention. There’s no other way someone like her would ever consider dating her, right?

Eight comes back a moment later with a stack of clothes and sets them next to the sink.

Once she finishes drying herself off, she throws the clothes on and tries not to think too hard about the fact that she’s wearing Eight’s underwear. Three looks around the bathroom awkwardly, unsure of what to do with the wet towel.

“Um... Eight?” she calls, stepping out into Eight’s room. “What do you want me to do with this? Uh- Oh, you're, uh..." Eight looks up. "You're still naked."

"Yes, Three," she says in the tone you use to speak to a dumb idiot toddler. "I am."

"... Why?" she asks, voice small. "Uh... Not that I can, like, stop you, but..."

"I'm putting on lotion?" Right. As if that's the obvious answer. Look at Eight, with her _soft, nice skin_ and shit. What a nerd, and FUCK Three's _so_ gay. "Hey, actually... Can I ask you to put some on my back?"

"What?" Three blinks. 

Eight rolls her eyes. "Can you-"

"No, I, um... I heard you, I just..." Three gingerly takes a seat on Eight's bed. She hands Three the bottle - fucking Bath & Body Works cherry blossom, no wonder she's friends with Four - who then uncaps it and squirts a little into her palm. "Just... Rub it in?"

"Do you know how to apply lotion?" and Three can't tell if she's teasing or not.

"Y-Yeah, no, I do, it-" She takes a deep breath. It's fine. This is fine. Three's fine. Eight's fine haha get it? god three's going to die today,

“Thank you,” Eight mumbles once Three’s hands make contact with her back. She works at a knot in Eight’s lower back, and Eight stifles a small moan. Three pauses for a second because there’s _no way_ she heard that, right..? Unless Eight’s, like, dead set on killing her today, which she’s succeeding at and fucking hell Three’s going to have some _fun_ dreams THIS week. She’s brought out of her thoughts when Eight clears her throat.

“Sorry,” Three apologizes. “I just...”

“You’re really cute,” Eight comments with a laugh as if it’s some obvious truth, “You butt.”

Fuck, Three didn’t think her face could get any hotter. “Uh,” she stammers, rubbing the rest of the lotion in. “... Thanks.”

Eight hums quietly in acknowledgement.

Three’s mostly silent as she works (is it really work if she enjoys it?) as is Eight, with the only noise being the occasional moan when Three gets to an exceptionally sore spot.

“What even happened to you?” she asks.

“I told you,” Eight grumbles, “It was that stupid Carbon Roller.”

“That’s the worst roller, too.” Eight nods. “I’m sorry.”

“I also got shot point-blank by a Bamboozler,” she adds, which is a sentence Three didn’t think she’d ever hear. “And then I fell off the bridge on The Reef a few times.” There’s a faint pink spot that Three couldn’t wash out entirely, and Eight flinches away slightly when Three touches it. “That’s from a Range Blaster.”

“Fucking hell, are you going out of your way to get hit?” Eight laughs. “I’m serious!”

“Aww, are you _worried_ for me, Three?”

“No, totally not. I’ve never worried at all ever. I don’t even have feelings.”

“You are..! You totally are, aww... You’re _adorable.”_ Eight’s words send a vibrant wave of yellow down her mantle. “Three..? You know... I’m really, really happy I met you.”

“Yeah,” she says, voice quiet and barely above a whisper. “I’m happy I met you, too.”

When Three finishes up, Eight turns back around and gives Three a smile so sweet she thinks it could give someone diabetes.

"No homo," Eight murmurs fondly, pressing a kiss to Three's lips.

"I-" Three takes a deep breath as she feels her face warm considerably. "I, that's- Eight, that's SO homo. Oh my god."

"No it's not," she mumbles. "I said it wasn't, so it's not."

"That's not how that works!”

"Says who?"

"Me!" she says and there's a squeakiness to her voice that she wishes wasn't there. 

Eight laughs and kisses her again. "Fine, then _yes_ homo."

“Where... Where did you even learn that?” Three asks quietly.

“Guess.”

“Was it Four again?” Eight nods. Three rolls her eyes. “Typical.”

Eight moves forward so she’s straddling Three and _goddamn_ if her hearts weren’t racing before they are now. She cups Three’s head in her hands and tilts it up. Eight laughs, although it’s more purr-like than anything, and her breath is minty and cool. Three’s is hot and rapid and she can only stare on in awe. “Three...” she starts. “Do you mind if we make it more homo?”

“What..?” Fuck, that’s, like, the worst sentence she’s ever heard Eight say but god if Three is not intrigued. “I... What?”

“Do you want to make out?” she asks and Three thinks her face is quite literally on fire.

“I, uh- I’m... I’m not opposed to the idea, like, uh, at all, but, um, could you maybe, perchance, put on some underwear, or something?” Eight looks at Three like she’s stupid. “... Please?”

“Way to kill the mood...” she mumbles, climbing off Three.

“I- Fuck, it’s not like there was much of one to begin with!!! Seriously, like... ‘Do you mind if we make it more homo?’ HAS to be, like, the least sexy sentence of all time!” she snaps, crossing her arms.

“Oh, we all know that’s not true.” Eight slides open a drawer and pulls out a pair of boxers. She slips them on and closes the drawer again. Taking a seat on the bed again, she says, “I _saw_ how you were looking at me. Do you think I’m _blind?”_

“That’s not- Go fuck yourself..!”

“With you right here?” she comments with a laugh. “Please.”

“Eiiiiiight,” Three whines, burying her head in her hands. “Come _on.”_

“Fiiine,” Eight mumbles. “Still, are we, or..? Is the mood, like, irreversibly dead.”

“I’m- I’m still down, I swear, but...” Three squints at Eight’s boxers. “Are those... Dinosaur print? Is that a red brontosaurus on your crotch?”

Eight sighs. “Am I not allowed to like dinosaurs, Three? Are you judging my taste in underwear?”

“You just... Never struck me as the dinosaur type.”

“Maybe I _want_ a stegosaurus on my ass,” she huffs. “Look, are we doing this or not?”

“Yes!” Three says too quickly. “Yes, I, uh, yes please.”

“You’re eager, aren’t you?” she teases, straddling Three again.

“You're the one that was groping me the entire time.” Three rolls her eyes although she still feels herself blush.

“Groping?” Eight scoffs. “I’ll _show_ you groping.”

_“How charming,”_ Three wants to say, but then Eight kisses her and she finds it hard to care after that.

* * *

 

Three is exceptionally shirtless when Four walks in.

“Oh,” says Four.

Three would nod but she’s scared she’d hit Eight in the head with her chin so she opts to give Four a small wave.

Eight mutters a series of syllables that most certainly aren’t Inkling but most certainly are vulgar and pulls herself off Three, turning around to face Four.

“Did you need something?” she asks, rings burning blue. “And please _knock_ next time.”

“I, uh.” Four’s grip visibly tightens on the doorknob. “Sorry for interrupting, I just- Uh. Summer, it’s, uh... Getting late, so-”

“Oh.” Three blinks. “Is that it?”

“Um... Yeah, I... I guess so.” Four hovers in the doorway for a few seconds, then awkwardly coughs into her hand. “I, uh. See you soon, or something. Sorry.”

Four leaves the room quickly after that, the door shutting behind her with a click.

Eight sighs and sits down on the bed. Three pushes herself up and blindly searches for her shirt.

Something pokes her palm. Looking down, and it’s her glasses held by the bridge in Eight’s hand. She quietly thanks her and slips them on.

Now that she can _see,_ Three can find the shirt Eight lent her. It’s blue and blends in with the sheets. Is blue Eight’s favourite color? Eight looks good in blue, at the very least. Or... Eight looks good in everything, which is just _unfair._

She slips it on and gets off the bed, finding her jacket on the ground. Three ties it around her waist.

“Oh, Three,” Eight starts, facing her dresser and finding something to wear. “Whenever the party is... I’ll get your clothes back to you.”

“You don’t have to, I can take them with me.”

“Three... They smell _awful.”_ She throws on a shirt. Putting on a pair of shorts, she adds, “I have to do laundry anyways. It won’t take any longer.”

Three bursts out laughing when Eight turns around.

“Eight, is that a ‘Dinosaurs of Inkopolis’ shirt?” Eight blushes. _“Why_ are you such a dinosaur nerd??”

“They’re CUTE, Three!!” she retorts. “They’re _cute.”_

“You think I’m cute, too, for some goddamn reason... Are you calling me a dinosaur?”

Eight pauses to think. “... Sure. You’re a Grumposaurus.”

“What, not a butt this time?”

“Grumposaurus butt, then.”

... You know what? Fine. Three will almost accept that.

* * *

 

When they walk downstairs, Pearl gives Three a glare and her mantle is a mess of blood-blues and blacks. She’s not entirely sure what she did to piss Pearl off, honestly, but she flashes her mantle beige, letting stripes of teal and green ripple through it in what she hopes looks like an honest apology.

“Thank you for your help today,” Marina says with a small smile. “Really, it means a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” Three mumbles.

“Anytime,” replies Four in that fucking ‘OOOOOOOOH look at me I’m a functioning member of society’ voice. “You said it’s Friday at 6:00, right?”

“Mhm.” Marina nods. “You’ll be able to make it, yes?”

“Yeah. I’m free Friday.” Four returns Marina’s smile then nods at Three. “We should... Really get going. Sorry we stayed so long.”

“It’s fine!” If Three looks behind Marina and into the kitchen, she can spy some of the charred countertop. She’s sure that’s going to be fun to clean. “Really, really, thank you! Any of this wouldn’t have been possible without your help.”

“Without _my_ help..?” Four says beneath her breath. Three rolls her eyes. At a louder volume, she tells Marina, “It’s nothing.”

A few more awkward goodbyes and one incredibly awkward hug from Eight that’s more like the hug you give your cousin at a family reunion that you don’t know very well as opposed to a hug you should probably give someone you’re dating and also made out with for a decent amount of time not even five minutes ago later, they’re out of the house.

The walk back to Four’s car is spent in silence. Three can hear crickets chirping and the air is cool against her skin. The sky is a medley of oranges and pinks, bleeding into the dark purples of the night sky.

“... So,” Four says eventually. Her voice is low, her posture stiff. “You and Eight, uh...”

“Hmm?” Three blinks at her lazily. Ripples of sea green turn to waves, languid and slow as they pulse through her mantle. Their hands brush as they walk - Pearl’s driveway is disgustingly huge - but Three never takes it, no matter how much she longs to.

A footstep - Four’s shoe against stone. At the same time - Three’s footstep, in harmony like they’ve always been.

Once more, their hands brush. If Three takes it, is she betraying Eight? But Three doesn’t _want_ anything romantic with Four. She wants what they have now - what they had? She wants intimacy, but different intimacy than what she could have with Eight no matter how similar they look on the surface. She wants to hold Four’s hand, she wants to be close, even if it’s in silence - especially if it’s in silence. She wants to rest her head against Four’s chest, hearing the soft sounds of her breathing and the rhythmic drumming of her hearts - just them in their own little world, just them in their moment outside of time.

When she thinks about it like that, it sounds romantic. But she doesn’t want that. Not now, at least. Maybe never. But Three can remember kissing Four, and she remembers the vanilla taste to her mouth, the softness to her lips, contrasting Three’s mouth with the burning smokiness of alcohol and her chapped sandpaper lips that bled when she smiled. She remembers those times, and she really just thinks she feels repulsed.

But she also remembers Four’s smiles, pretty but never delicate, charmingly gentle, or even the light dusting of color to her cheeks right now, and all she feels is fondness.

Whatever they are... They don’t need a name.

They’re just them.

“... Summer?” Four’s hand still brushes against hers when she lifts it to wave it in front of Three’s face. “... Are you okay? You... Zoned out for a bit.”

“I love you,” Three mumbles. The words are soft, almost tender, but they’re genuine, most of all. With that, she finally takes her hand. Three feels at home in moments like these in a way she can’t describe, in a way she could _never_ describe.

That’s what she's always been to Three.

Home.

Four chokes on her words as her face flushes dark turquoise.

“Um... Thanks. I love you too.” Her words send a particularly vibrant surge of her color down Three’s mantle. “... You weren’t listening to anything I said, huh?”

“No,” Three admits.

“Jeez...” She sighs. “I’m just... Y’know, sorry I interrupted you. I just... I didn’t think you guys would be moving that fast.”

“... Huh?”

“You two were fucking, right? Or... Close to it.”

Three feels her face warm once she realizes what Four said.

“No,” she mumbles. “We- We weren’t anywhere close..!”

“I mean... It looked like it.” Four’s car beeps when she unlocks it. “So excuse me for coming to that conclusion.”

“Wait... When you went back downstairs, what did you tell Off the Hook?” When Four refuses to meet her gaze, she sighs. “Oh, you’re shitting me.”

“I’m _sorry,_ Summer, forgive me for assuming that the two pashing, almost-naked lesbians were going to fuck.”

Three snorts as she gets in the car. “Sometimes I forget you’re from Macquasia. You don’t sound it.”

“What the fuck, do you want me to bring a didgeridoo everywhere I go?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

“No, I just-” Three sighs. “Whatever. But was that why Pearl was pissed?”

“What..?” It takes her a moment. The opening notes to Warm Ink start playing and Three makes the executive decision to turn the radio off. “Oh, probably. You know... She’s a lot more protective than I thought she’d be.”

“What’s she going to do, yell me to death?” Three thinks the idea is funny until she remembers the news clips roughly three months ago, catching shaky footage of the NILS statue with the audio clipping out when Pearl screamed. “Or...”

“She might.” Three sucks in an inward breath. “Hey, is your throat okay?”

“Yeah. Still a little sore, but I’m okay.” She laughs quietly. “Shit, it’s almost like you _care.”_

“Of course I care, idiot,” Four mutters.

“I bet I care more.” Four stops looking at the road to briefly give Three a tired look. Three sticks her tongue out at her.

She turns to face the road again. “Put that away, that’s disgusting.”

Three exaggerates the gesture with a small noise. Without looking, Four raises a hand and jabs her in the tongue piercing.

“There’s no _way_ you care more, you friggin’ dolt.” Three ‘hmph’s indignantly.

“Yeah? I’ll make you scrambled eggs with tofu, because that’s how you _like_ them.”

“I’ll marathon the Sea Slug Buddies with you and I won’t tease you when you _cry.”_

“Oh really? Then I’ll do your _make-up_ because I’m better with _eyeliner_ than you are.”

“Then I’ll- I’ll clean your shitty roller!” A few seconds of tense silence pass before they both start laughing. 

Quietly, Four asks, “I’m guessing you want to spend the night at my place, then?”

“Please?”

She laughs again. It’s sharp and about as melodious as a child playing an instrument for the first time.

Three loves it.

“Okay,” Four agrees. “But you’re buying lunch the next time we go out.”

“Fine.”

(When she wakes up the next morning, the shirt she’s wearing smells like both Eight and Four.)

(It’s perfect.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (my friend, playing go diego go games: "look at all the dinosaur adventures!" *gestures at three*)  
> i missed writing these two interacting... hope this makes up for the general lack of a24 in the rest of this!  
> i went through like. 4 entire drafts of this chapter. there was one that was stupid unneeded angst that explained 3s tragic backstory that i decided sucked and completely changed, one that was incredibly sexually charged and also horribly written because i have exactly zero romantic experience, another that was Literal Smut that was marginally better than draft 2 but still wasnt good, one where 8 gets her memories... im happy with this draft, honestly. i dont know if this really qualifies as fluff but i like how it turned out.  
> ALSO wendys??? bringing back the Spicy Nugs??? im THRIVING. chicken nugs dont fuck. eights nugs might fuck. Wendys Brand Spicy Nug? the fuckiest. theyre so fucking good im so happy im literally tearing up as i write this its the little victories ok  
> chapter 8 MIGHT be delayed since ill be visiting family most of next week. ill try to get it out on time but i might not. just... a heads up.  
> anyways, thank you for reading!!! c: hope you guys had a nice pride month. get ready for Wrath


	8. In which Eight receives some forbidden knowledge as well as some gifts

“Eight, you understand the rules from now on?” Pearl asks sternly, hand on her hip.

“Yes, Pearl,” Eight replies. She sighs quietly and rolls her eyes. “Seriously, it-”

“Repeat them,” she demands.

“... What?”

“Repeat the rules. I want to make sure you know them.” Eight searches Pearl’s face for any traces of irony, only to find nothing. “C’mon.”

She sighs dramatically this time. 

“Rule one: I am not supposed to be left in a room with Three unsupervised.”

“And?”

“... And if we are in the same room together, there is supposed to be no less than my arm’s length of distance between us.”

Pearl nods slowly. “Continue.”

“Rule two: we are not to do anything sexual in nature before four months into our relationship.” Pearl makes a small ‘go on’ motion. “... Once we’ve passed that point, a document must be signed by both you and her parent, or, if a parent is unavailable, Mr. Cuttlefish must sign.”

“... Good,” Pearl says after a long pause. “Rule three.”

“Pearl, rule three is... Unnecessary.” Pearl gives her a Look. Eight rolls her eyes. “It is.”

“Pearlie,” Marina mumbles from the dining table, not looking up from her laptop. “Even  _ we _ didn’t follow these rules. Bump it down to... Three months at least.”

“Reena. Hush. I’m trying to keep Eight safe.”

Marina looks like she’s going to say something but then sighs and shakes her head. “Okay, Pearlie.”

“Rule three,” she says again.

Eight sighs. “When-”

_ “If,” _ Pearl corrects. “If.”

_ “If,” _ she starts, “We have sex, we have to use a condom.” Pearl continues giving her the look. “... And lube, for whatever reason.”

“What do you  _ mean, _ for whatever reason? It’s  _ important _ and I don’t want you to get  _ hurt,” _ she huffs.

“... But why a condom? Pearl, I literally cannot get her pregnant.”

“Ah, don’t you have a, uh...” Pearl makes a small series of hand motions. “A...”

{Depositor?} Eight offers. Pearl nods. “... That’s not how that works.”

“... Why not?” Eight and Marina share a glance. “... Y’know what, never mind.” Pearl clears her throat. “Rule four?”

“There’s not a rule four,” Eight says slowly. “You’re not adding a rule four.”

“I can and I  _ will.” _ Eight struggles to hide the glow of her rings. “Hey. Don’t blue at me, I’m doing this to keep you safe.”

“I... Appreciate that. Really, I do, but... It’s fine, Pearl, really.”

She shakes her head ‘no.’ “Look, Eight. I know you don't want to hear it, but Three is still untrustworthy.” Eight cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t eyebrow at me either. What if she has an STD or something?”

“A what?”

“Sexually transmitted disease,” Marina explains, voice flat. “It’s, ah...  _ Cestodas a deposos.” _

Eight chews at the inside of her cheek as she thinks. “... Three wouldn’t have worms.”

Pearl visibly double-takes. “You get  _ worms?  _ Worms on your crotch?”

“In,” Marina corrects, and Pearl blanches. “From what I’ve heard - not from experience, type B’s are designated removal rather than donor - they burrow beneath the protective membrane on the outsi-”

“OKAY,” Pearl interrupts. “Okay. Okay. Dick worms. Got it. I don’t want- I don’t  _ need _ to know any more. Okay. Look. Three won’t have crotch worms though I wouldn’t put it past her, but-”

“She doesn’t,” Eight comforts. Pearl gives her a Look. “... It smells.”

This time, Pearl retches.

“It’s not like they hurt,” Marina mumbles. “Still a health hazard, but if they’re caught early you don’t need any surgery...”

“Reena,” she begs. “Please. Stop fucking talking.”

“What? It’s not like you have a depositor anyways, even if they look similar...” Marina shakes her head, brushing a tentacle out of her face. “Anyways, I don’t think Eight really  _ needs _ all of those rules. They’re excessive, and I’m sure Eight knows how to navigate a relationship... Isn’t it better to let them move at their own pace?”

Pearl makes a soft series of ‘hmm’ noises with her hand on her chin as if she’s some sort of cool detective and not someone who thinks mayo is okay to eat out of a bowl by itself. After a decently-sized period of Thinking Sounds and squinting at Eight, she shakes her head. “No.”

“Whyyy?” Eight whines, rings flashing bright blue for a second before dimming down. “Pearl, I’m... Literally an adult. I saved the world, you know.”

“I’m more adult than you,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “And I  _ also _ helped in the world saving.”

“Fine, but  _ Marina’s _ younger than you and I know for a fact you didn’t follow any of those rules you just told me!!” She sighs. “I know you want me to be safe or whatever, but I’m capable of taking care of myself. At least... When it comes to Three. You trust me, right..?”

Pearl opens her mouth to speak but then closes it. She glares at Eight before her gaze softens, then sighs softly.

“... Fine. I’ll get rid of the written consent thing, but I just... I don’t want you to get hurt.” Gingerly, she takes Eight’s hand in hers. Her hands are so tiny in comparison to Eight’s own, and so... Delicate. Pearl’s lived a life of luxury, after all. Yes, they’re calloused from her dualies, but they’re not scarred, not at all. Her fingers gently trace the pale purple scars littering Eight’s hand as she looks back up at her. “You’ve been through a lot, Eight. I... I worry about you. That’s all.”

“... Thank you, Pearl,” Eight mumbles as she gently slips her hand out of Pearl’s grip. “I... Appreciate it.”

“It’s nothi-”

The doorbell rings. Pearl’s head snaps towards the door and, at a volume much louder than normal, yells, “COMING!!”

Eight’s ears also ring. And her rings, those burn. The doorbell, though, that stays unburned and uncharred.

... Unlike their microwave.

_ Thank _ you, Marina.

“Eight, you use the Octo Shot Replica, right?” Marina asks, closing her laptop and slipping it into its bag. She slings it over her shoulder.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering,” is her response, which is stupid and vague and obviously a lie. Why does Marina need to know, though? Unless... She actually  _ is _ just wondering...

_ Hm... _

“Okay.”

A few seconds of silence pass and Eight feels really awkward, so she turns around and pokes her head into the foyer.

“Oh, there she is!” Pearl exclaims with a grin. It’s practiced, Eight knows. “Hey, Three and Four are here.”

Oh!!! That they are. Both are carrying, um... Something. Two somethings. One something for each, in fact. Boxes! Wrapped in, uh...  _ Stuff. _

Three’s box is a little shabbier than Four’s... And also smaller. The paper is a little crinkled and more bunched-up in spots. Eight can also spy an ungodly amount of tape on the bottom of it. It’s white, with a small pink floral pattern on it, and a sort of tacky red bow slapped on top of it. If Eight tried to set it down so that the ribbon faced upwards, it would roll a little on the side that’s probably supposed to be the bottom.

Four’s box, on the other hand, looks professional. It’s flatter than Three’s, but still longer. And also still a box, except it’s rectangular. The paper is white, just like how Three’s is, but it has a golden swirl pattern on it instead of flowers. There’s no ribbon on it, though, but there  _ is _ a small paper label stuck to it. In neat black handwriting are the words ‘To: Eight’ and ‘From: Four’ on it. That’s a nice touch... Eight still kind of prefers the tacky bow. 

Eight didn’t actually think people  _ wrapped _ their gifts. She thought it was another fake thing, like coupons or high school spirit weeks, something only made up for movies and the like. 

“Eight, hey!” Four gives her a wave and a smile that looks not fake. Take notes, Pearl. “Sorry, are we early, or..?”

“It’s 6:00 PM,” Three mutters. “On the dot, actually.” Looking up from her phone, she gives Eight a tiny wave. “Uh... Howdy.”

Something about Three looks off, but she can’t exactly place it. Her mask’s never looked so defined, though... Maybe it’s the nose piercing? She got rid of the stud and replaced it with a ring... But that’s not quite it, either.

“Three, Four, hi!” Eight rushes over and crushes both of them in a hug. Or... Well, she hugs Four and crushes Three, probably, because Three lets out a loud series of stammers, or... No, a noise that’s kinda similar to “Gughgnfffffshhshsh...” or something like that. Maybe a little dishwashier. Pearl clears her throat - rule one. Eight swears beneath her breath and takes a step back. “Um... How have you guys been?” Pearl tried teaching Eight the manners of hosting before..! But, you know, they’re... They’re boring. Eight’s sort of regretting not paying attention to her lesson right now, though. “Ah, do you need me to take your jackets or anything..?”

Three pauses and looks over at Four. Because Four is the only wearing a jacket. Haha... Crap.

“Oh, I’m alright,” she replies. “Thank you though!”

It’s at moments like these where Eight sort of kind of wishes Tartar exploded the word, because she wouldn’t have to live with these kinds of mistakes.

But.

Ahem.

ANYWAys,

“We’ve been alright, I guess,” Three says with a shrug. “Fucking Justin almost set the scones on fire, though.”

“What’s a scone?” Eight asks. “Pearl never lets us get any since she says they suck.”

“But they do!” she snaps. “Scones are the  _ worst.” _

From the other room, Marina calls, “Pearlie, it’s cute that you think that!!”

“They’re, uh... Some kind of baked good,” Three explains. “They’re not my favourite, but they’re not bad.”

“They’re  _ great, _ Eight. Don’t listen to them,” Four says lowly, placing a hand on Eight’s shoulder. It is at this exact moment that Eight realizes she can literally be closer to Four than Three. You know, Three.

Her  _ girlfriend. _

... Whatever. It’s  _ fine. _

“Hey, uh... Pearl?” Three holds up her present. “Where should I put this?”

“Oh, uh... I’ll take that,” she replies, walking over. Three hands her the box and Pearl looks at Four expectantly. After a moment of hesitation, Four gives Pearl her gift. “Cool. Thanks.” 

“So, um...” Eight shifts where she stands. “Did Pearl tell you about the rules too?”

Three scowls and sighs with a small nod. “They’re stupid as hell.” She rolls her eyes. “I have to get my mother’s blessing to eat you out?”

“To... To  _ what?” _ Three bites her lip as her cheeks tinge orange. “Three, are you a  _ cannibal?” _

Four starts cackling.

“Never mind,” Three mutters hastily, her blush growing in intensity. “Why don’t we-”

“You can't just say that kind of shit and move on,” Four interrupts, slinging an arm over Three’s shoulder. “It’s when you-”

Three punches her.

Four shoves Three off her and glares at her. “What the  _ fuck, _ Summer?”

“I didn’t bite you this time,” is all she says.

What..?

“Three, you  _ bite _ people?” Three pauses and shrugs. “Why?”

“She fucking bites me all the time,” Four grumbles, rubbing at the spot where Three hit her. “And her beak is hooked and disgustingly sharp so I pretty much always end up bleeding.”

Ooookay, that’s a  _ little _ odd... Oh, wait, if they bleed, then they scar, right? Would it... Be a stretch if..?

“Four?” Eight tilts her head to the side slightly, furrowing her brow in thought. “Is that what...” Eight taps at her bottom lip and Four mirrors the action before her eyes go wide. “Is that what that’s from?”

“NO,” she says hastily, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s not. I told you, she, uh. She punched me, or something, yes.”

Eight shifts her gaze over to Three, whose face is equally flushed. “Yep. I punched her real good. It was a punch, from my hand, from  _ my _ hand, on her face, not my face, and it wasn’t from my face either, mhm.”

“... You can tell me the truth. I won’t judge.”

“You don’t think it’s dumb of us?” Three blurts out. Four kicks her. “Shit, sorry, it-”

“You’re also really bad liars,” Eight explains. “I  _ promise _ I won’t tell anyone, but... Three bit you? First of all,  _ when, _ and secondly, did you have to go to the hospital or something? There is a literal piece of your flesh missing.”

“Err... Yeah, it was, like... Right after we stopped dating, I guess?” Four rubs at her arm. “Uh... We were, like, fifteenish, I wanna say? She was drunk-”

“Like  _ you _ weren’t?” Three scoffs. Four glares at her. “I’m just saying.”

“Fine,  _ we _ were drunk and she was in hysterics over being a bad kisser, so I decided to... Teach her, and then I think she was trying to be sexy or something, and she, uh... Bit me, but  _ waaaay _ too hard.” Four sighs, still blushing. “And we couldn’t, like, just explain what was happening because like I said, we were drunk, and that was fairly illegal, so I hid in a puddle of ink for a bit while Three cried in the bathroom.”

Eight looks over at Three for some sort of confirmation. When Three nods, Eight sighs.

“That’s... That’s kind of pathetic, actually,” she says quietly. “And- Wait,  _ after _ you stopped dating?”

“Yeees..?” Four nods slowly. “We only dated a little in freshman year, really. It was too awkward.”

“You’re... Telling me you’re not dating now?”

Three buries her head in her hands and lets out a quiet series of syllables that are too muffled to discern but are probably vulgar nonetheless. Four, on the other hand, makes a noise similar to an Octocopter being punted across the room as she chokes on her own spit.

“Eight,  _ we _ are dating,” Three finally says. “Four and I get people mistaking us for a couple a lot, but I didn’t think  _ you _ of all people would...”

“No, really, you... You guys aren’t?” Three gives her a flat look. “You guys are actually just friends?”

“I want to go home,” Three states, crossing her arms.

“Well, having multiple partners was pretty common back in Domes... So long as you love them equally, it’s not like it matters, and it makes it easier if one of them dies, I guess.” Judging by the look of vague horror that the two of them are giving her, Eight assumes that death is probably not as much of a problem on the surface and that simply loving other people out of fear that your loved one could be dead the next day is a little odd. That being said, she just shrugs a little and offers a small smile. “Cultural differences, I guess!”

“That’s... A hell of a difference,” Four mumbles. “But... Yeah, polymorous people exist here, but it’s not super widespread. Also I think I’d rather die than kiss Three again.”

“Well, I mean... If you ignore all the kissing and stuff, you two are practically dating.”

“... If we ignore all the romantic stuff, we are romantically involved?” Three asks dryly. How dare she mock Eight!! “I get what you’re trying to say, but... Come on.”

“There’s more than that, though...” In July, right after the Kamabo incident, Three had become Four’s unofficial shadow. Three was... So incredibly passive too. And Four was, for lack of a better term, aggressive. No, not quite aggressive, maybe... Protective. That’s the word Eight’s thinking of. She was snappy and stressed, more likely than not, and probably over Three. Or... Mostly over Three. But Eight remembers catching moments of the two when they thought they were alone in the Cabin, moments where Three was curled up in Four’s arms and crying, moments when Four was soft, when she was vulnerable, when... When Eight knew they hated her. 

When Eight knew it was her fault.

Realizing she had zoned out for a bit, Eight shakes her head slightly and forces herself to smile again. “Just... Never mind, actually. Sorry, that’s just my bad.”

“Sooo, wait, when we were shopping, were you hitting on me?” Four asks.

“... I don’t think so, no.” Four goes quiet and nods slowly. “I mean, you’re pretty, don’t get me wrong, but...”

“No, no, I get it...” Four clears her throat, blushing slightly. “I was just kind of wondering, that’s all.”

“Okay.” A part of Eight wonders if Four was disappointed by her answer. Another part wonders why she cares either way. “Uh, so... How have things been since we last saw each other?”

“I... Haven’t done a whole lot,” Eight admits. “Pearl taught me how to scramble an egg, if it counts?”

“How much mayo did she ask you to put in?” Three asks. Eight catches a small strip of blue flash on her mantle.

“None, actually.” Her mantle flashes yellow-green for a second. “They came out okay, but I added too much salt.”

“Huh,” is the response Eight gets. “Okay.”

“Yep.” Hm. Well, Eight failed the convoluted and difficult task of small talk! It seems that the only answer now is death.

...

Wow...

Silence...

... Sure is awkward...

.....

.........

...  _ Really  _ awkward...

......

Hm......

... Eight is seriously considering jobs in the ‘not being alive’ industry...

“... Are you guys okay?”

Eight practically jumps out of her skin as she turns around to see Pearl. She’s hovering in the doorway with her hand on her hip. Eight opts to give her a small wave.

“Don’t you remember what I told you, Eight? Come on.” Eight rolls her eyes and Pearl sighs. “Here, come in.”

Pearl leads them into the dining room, a room that they rarely ever use since it’s fit to seat about twelve people and there are barely three in their house. It looks a lot less formal than it usually does, which is good. It... Also happens to look a lot like a children’s birthday party, but whatever.

In the corner of the room is a cleared-off table that used to hold important stuff like Vases that Aren’t Holding Anything and Candles. On that cleared-off table are the two gifts that Three and Four brought. Cool beans! Oh, and... A yellow plastic bag that’s not a gift. Still, cool beans!  _ Very _ cool beans.

“... Do you need us to do anything?” Three asks.

Pearl furrows her brow as she thinks and then shakes her head ‘no’. “Just chill out here, I guess. And... I had a question I wanted to ask you. Can’t remember it right now, though.”

“You were mad about something Three said,” Eight offers. “But I tuned you out, so I don’t know either.”

Pearl sighs again. “Great.” 

“Something  _ I _ said..?” Three mutters beneath her breath as if no one is supposed to hear it.

“Did you say something, Three?” Pearl frowns slightly when Three shakes her head. “Fine. The food’s not done yet, but it should be soon. Hopefully the others get here before then.”

“The others..?” What others? Marina only said Three and Four were coming... “Pearl, what do you mean?”

Pearl’s eyes widen before she slaps her hand against her forehead. It’s a perfect juncture of her palm and her face. You might even call it... A facepalm.

Eight is  _ clever. _

“Never mind,” she growls. “Anyways, you guys... Have fun. I have to make sure this shit doesn’t burn.”

“Wait, Pearl!” Halfway through the doorway, Pearl turns around. “Um... Where are the party cones?”

“Uhh...” Pearl’s voice trails off as she looks around the room. “In the yellow bag behind the gifts. That all?”

“Yeah,” Eight says with a nod. “Thank you.”

Pearl nods as she leaves the room. Eight walks over to the bag and retrieves three party cones. Because they’re not hats no matter what Four says.  _ Marina _ refers to them as party cones after all, and Marina is smart when it comes to words and stuff.

Eight puts on her party cone and Three snickers a little. Eight hands one to Four, who puts it on, and then she holds one out to Three.

“No,” Three says flatly. “I am not wearing a party hat.”

“Oh,” Eight replies sweetly. “You don’t have a choice.”

Eight advances when Three backs up, but Three backs up into the wall and immediately admits defeat. A good choice on her part, really! Eight puts the party cone on in one swift motion. Her hands cup Three’s face and tilt it up to look straight at Eight.

“What are you do-” Eight cuts her off with a kiss. In the corner of Eight’s vision, she thinks she spies Four jump a little.

No matter! Four is not important right now.

Buut, Eight does, in fact, find herself in the tiniest bit of a pickle. On one hand, Eight doesn’t want to stop kissing Three, like, even more than usual. It has something to do with disrespecting authority, or, in this case, the lone inkling Nurser known as Pearl. Because that’s what she’s being right now. A big ole stupid  _ Nurser. _

On the other hand, this is probably at least a little awkward for Four. Like, if Eight was in Four’s position right now, and Four was in  _ Eight’s _ position right now and Three and Four were actually dating and not just tricking everyone, and Four pressed Three against a wall and just started kissing her, Eight would probably feel a little bit like wanting death.

So. Hm. Maybe Four actually  _ is _ important now.

But while Eight is contemplating the morality of kissing her girlfriend, Three ultimately makes the final decision because she just shoves Eight away.

“Pearl,” is her reasoning. Eight sighs and nods. “Sorry.”

“Your cone is off-center,” Eight informs her while pointing at it.

Three just shrugs. Like a  _ butt. _ Like a stupid butt that doesn’t  _ care  _ about  _ properly wearing her cone. _

“So, um...” Eight takes a few steps back. “Who else is coming, exactly?”

Three thinks for a bit. “I think the old man?”

“Pearl said  _ others, _ though... Who else?” Three shrugs. Helpful.

“She probably misspoke?” Four offers.

Eight is beginning to suspect that Pearl did not, in fact, misspeak, and all of them are collectively hiding the identities of the extra mysterious extra party guests from her.

Fine! Lie to Eight. Lie straight to her face! She doesn’t care, not at all!

Not. A. Smidge.

“You guys know who they are,” Eight says with a pout. “Tell meeeee.”

“I don’t know anything,” Four lies. “Nothing at all.”

“Pleaaaase?” Eight bats her eyes. Four seems thoroughly unconvinced. “Do you take payments?”

“How mu-”

“NO,” Three interrupts. “She  _ doesn’t.” _

Four mouths something at her. Three raises her middle finger. It’s apparently rude, but Eight has no real idea what it means.

“Can’t you just tell me?” Eight pleads.

“Pearl will kill me if I do,” Three replies and then takes a seat on the ground. She leans back against the wall and her party cone gets pushed forward. “So I can’t.”

“She won’t kill Four, right?”

Four shakes her head. “Chompy McFuckface might, though.”

“I will,” Chompy McFuckface agrees. “And I’ll put an untoasted bagel on her grave.”

“You wouldn’t  _ dare!” _ Four places a hand on her chest and looks at Three as if Three just brutally murdered her children in a way that especially doesn’t honour the gods. It’s kind of funny, actually.

“Oh, but I  _ would.” _ Three smirks tauntingly at her.

“You  _ bitch.” _ Four opens her mouth to hurl more insults at her but Eight has one, teeny-tiny little question that needs to be answered...

“Guys? What’s a bagel?”

Three and Four look at her as if she just told them the saddest story ever but the story was also offensive. Eight has never felt so judged and pitied at the same time.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Three asks.

Four’s mantle ripples with dark reds and pale blues. “Eight, what has Off the Hook been teaching you?”

“... Can I just get an answer?” They make it seem like bagels are some.... Cultural icon or something. Which... They might be!! Eight doesn’t know.

“It’s like bread, but it’s in a ring?” Three offers. “Uh, I think you boil them before you bake them, and...”

“They  _ fuck,” _ Four says bluntly. “Bagels  _ fuck.” _

“It’s a... Sex food?” That just sounds like a health hazard, but if they really are ring-shaped... “What..?”

“She’s trying to say she likes them. Though... I mean, I guess you could fuck a bagel if you really wanted to? I wouldn’t put it past her,” Three explains with a small shrug. Hm. Eight doesn't like that mental image.

Four does the  _ ‘I am a Victorian woman and you just showed your ankle in front of my kids’ _ pose with an offended noise to boot. “I would  _ never _ fuck a bagel, excuse you.” She clears her throat and crosses her arms. “They’re a breakfast food that you cut in half  _ horizontally _ and you  _ toast _ and put  _ spreads _ on.”

“They kinda suck, honestly,” Three mumbles. “I don’t understand why you like them so much.”

“Because I prepare them correctly? You don’t toast them  _ or _ cut them. You sit there and munch on your raw bagel of sadness like some... Bathtub drain filth.” Bathtub drain filth..? Hm, that’s new...

“I don’t cut them because I’m  _ lazy, _ Sarah. And  _ you _ took my  _ toaster. _ You know, the nice one that my  _ auntie _ got me for my  _ eighteenth birthday.” _ Three huffs. “It was nice, too. You could fit two bagels in it and it had a built-in crumb tray.”

“You could just come in and take it,” Four says. “You have a key to my apartment, you know.”

“But what if you’re taking a shit or something? I don’t want to open the door yelling ‘TOASTER’ while you’re tucked away having the shit of the century.” Three scowls and rolls her eyes. “I have manners, unlike  _ you.” _

“You? You’re trying to tell me that  _ you _ have manners? Hah!” Four scoffs. “As  _ if.” _

Eight shakes her head. All this over... A breakfast food? Maybe it’s another surface intricacy she doesn’t get, but... No, probably not. It’s most likely just the two of them being stupid and dumb as always.

They’re  _ both _ butts.

Stupid... Squid butts, or something. Name pending, so yeah. Take that.

Eight catches Marina walk by the entrance to the dining hall and waves at her. Marina waves back and stops walking when Eight skirts around the two squabbling fools.

“What do you need?” Marina asks.

Eight shrugs. “They’re fighting over bagels and I don’t know what they are.” At that, Eight hears Three yell “Go  _ FUCK _ yourself, Aunt Susan’s lemon bars are fucking AMAZING.”

“I... See.” Marina sighs. “Well, I was going to go get your gift from the garage.”

“The garage..?” Eight gives her a look. “Why is it in the garage?”

“Well, I had to make it there... You know how Pearl gets.” Gods, does she ever! Take your shoes off at the door, go to bed at a “reasonable” hour (4:00 AM is  _ plenty _ reasonable!!), don’t eat before dinner... She really is just a miniature Nurser at this rate. She’d make... What was her name..? Sa... Sandra..? No, that’s not it, it was...

It was something that wasn’t that.

Whatever.

Pearl would still put her to shame... Whoever she is.

“Yes,” Eight agrees with a sigh. “I do.” Suddenly, it hits her. “Wait, you got me something?”

“Of course I did!” Marina rolls her eyes. “Seriously, you think I wouldn’t?”

“I guess you would, but... What is it?”

“I’m not telling,” she replies flatly. Darn! It was worth a shot... “You’ll find out soon anyways.”

Eight pouts at her. Marina remains unaffected.

“Okay...” Eight mutters dejectedly. “But can you at least tell me who else is coming?”

“... They didn’t tell you?” Eight shakes her head. “Figures... They’re-”

The doorbell rings.

Marina turns around and calls, “COMING!” Somewhere else in the house, Pearl also yells it.

Hm... Interesting..!

Eight trails behind her as Marina half-runs, half-walks to the front door. She opens it and smiles.

“Hey!” Marina greets.

“Ah, ahoy there!” That voice! Those bulging eyes! That... Beard! It’s him!! “Marina, it’s good to see ya! How’ve you been!”

“Good, good! Come in, here.” Marina steps aside to let Mr. Cuttlefish walk in. “Did you get them to come, too?”

“Correctamundo! They’re getting something from the car?” Them? Who..? “Agent 8! It’s good to see you too.”

“Likewise, sir!” He holds out his arms for a hug. Eight doesn’t crush him like she would anyone else because she’s scared she might kill him.

“Thought I told you to cut it out with all that ‘sir’ nonsense,” he chides. “You’ve been well, I hope? Surface treating you well?”

“Sorry... And, um, yes, the surface has been really nice so far. It’s so colorful. The food’s a lot better than the Metro’s, too,” Eight replies, pulling away.

“Aye, it is.” His grip on his Bamboozler is shaky, but he looks healthier than when he was in the Metro. “I heard you and the other agents have been getting along?”

“Yes, we have,” Eight says. Marina adds, “Maybe a little too well.”

“Oh?” Mr. Cuttlefish laughs. “Well, that’s good. I’d rather them be friends than enemies again!” Eight grimaces at his comment but doesn’t say anything. “Now, Agent 8... Have you met my grandkids yet?”

“No, I haven’t.” Eight’s heard of his grandkids before, and that they’re both agents, but she’s never met them. They were always busy whenever Eight stopped by the Cabin, after all. “Why?”

“I brought them with me!” Oh, are they the mysterious extra guests? Interesting... “Hopefully they’ll hurry it up a little.”

“Sorry we took so long!!” Eight recognizes that voice. “Parking’s a nightmare.”

“I think you’re just bad at driving.” She recognizes them very well.

“At least I  _ can _ drive!” Oh my god. “Plus, have you ever tried to park a stick shift?”

“How hard can it _be?”_ **Oh my god.** “It’s a car, right? You just do it!”

“There you two are! Be a little more punctual next time, would you?” Mr. Cuttlefish shakes his head. “These are my darling granddaughters, Agents 1 and 2.”

“Hi!” one of them says with a wave. “Maybe you just know us as the Squid Sisters..?”

“I think she does..?” She shakes her head. “Anyways, I’m Marie, and that’s Callie. You’re Agent 8, right? We’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

“Oh my god,” says Eight, because  **_oh my god._ ** “You’re- I...”

“Is she okay?” Callie asks, tilting her head slightly.

“Probably just starstruck,” Marie replies, dismissing it with a small wave. “I mean, it’s sort of common from octolings...”

“Really?” Callie blinks, pressing her hands to her face. “I haven’t noticed at all..!”

“I mean, I was like that at first, too,” Marina admits. “You’re kind of a big deal, you know?”

“Mmm, I guess, but stiiiiiiill...! We’re just inklings, ya know?”

“Inklings that are international celebrities,” Marie comments. “It’s flattering though.”

“You’re very humble, Marie,” Callie chirps with a smile. “Anyways, are the others here?”

“Mhm,” Marina replies with a nod. “They’re in the dining hall. Follow me.”

Marina leads them back to the dining hall. Four has Three tackled to the ground while Three has a white-knuckled on a fistful of Four’s tentacles.

“Just set your stuff on the table over th- Are you guys okay?” Marina asks. 

Three shoves Four off her unceremoniously. “Yep. One-hundred percent.”

“Were you guys fighting?” Callie asks.

“Looked more like another f-word kinda deal,” Marie observes with a wry smirk. “If you catch my drift...”

“That’s nasty, Marie,” Four mutters, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Ahoy there, agents!” Mr. Cuttlefish greets. “It’s been a while.”

“Um, hi, Captain! Yeah, it... Has.” Three pushes herself up and dusts herself off. She doesn’t help Four up, but Four grabs onto her hand and pulls herself up nonetheless. “You’ve been good?”

“Of course!” He shakily walks over and shakes Three’s hand. “You look a lot better than before, too.”

Three grimaces slightly. “Yeah. I feel better as well.”

“Good, good...” Eight rapidly tunes out their chatter. She’s still more preoccupied with the Entire Squid Sisters. In the FLESH. In the ROOM. In the... AAAAAAAAAA.

“So, you’re Agent 8? Or do you just go by Eight, or do you have a name-name?” Callie asks, getting dangerously close and taking Eight’s hands in hers. “Unless Eight  _ is _ your name-name, but whatever, and-”

“Callie, I think you’re freaking her out.”

Callie’s eyes widen as she takes a step back, letting go of Eight’s hands. “Sorry, sorry..! I’m just excited to meet you, that’s all.”

“Um. Yep, yeah. Me too,” Eight stammers. A Squid Sister  _ touched _ her. She  _ held _ Eight’s hand, like, in  _ her _ hand. Eight is  _ never washing her hands again. _ “Eight, is, uh, my middle name, but it’s what I go by.”

“Is it..?” Callie blinks. Eight thinks her eyes are pretty. Like, not Three-levels, but Eight hasn’t really seen eyes like Callie’s before. The mask around them is more angular, with a smaller, second point on the bottom. Her scleras have a slightly green hue to them, too, one that Eight hasn’t seen in photos of promo art for the two. In pictures, they look more like Marie’s with the mask shape and eye color. In person, though... “What’s your first name?”

“I don’t go by it,” Eight mumbles. “I’d prefer not to share.”

“Ohh. Okay. Sorry, then!” Callie gives her a smile and Eight thinks she’s blind now, would you look at that?, Eight won’t look, ‘cause she can’t, nope, and she has no regrets either. “Sooo...”

“Are you and Three finally a thing?” Marie asks. “I never actually got any confirmation...”

“Um... Yes, we’re dating.”

Marie raises an eyebrow. “Really? How long?”

“A little under a month,” she tells her.

“And she didn’t even bother to tell me..?” Marie grumbles, shaking her head. “That’s good, though, but... Who asked who out?”

“I did.” Marie nods as if she was expecting that kind of answer. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Eight’s starting to get sick of people saying stuff like ‘just curious’ or ‘just wondering’ when there’s probably more to it every time!!! “So... You like the surface?”

Eight nods wholeheartedly. “It’s amazing. There’s so much here, and it’s so colorful, too. I don’t ever want to go back.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Marie says with a smile. “You saved us all, you know. We’re forever thankful.”

Eight now understands Three’s reaction of turning into a squid and not moving.

“It’s, um... It’s nothing,” Eight replies instead of shifting into octopus form and never leaving it. “I’m sure anyone would have done it if they were me, anyways.”

“See, Marie? She’s actually humble! You could learn a few things, ya know?” Callie teases with a grin.

Marie shakes her head. “I’m  _ plenty _ humble.”

“You literally have a wall of trophies in plain view in your apartment.”

She could just be proud of them! Marie earned them, after all...

“I’m  _ proud _ of them, Callie. I earned them myself.” Is Marie a mind-reader?? That would be cool, but also kind of terrifying, but still cool!!! If Eight was to trust anyone with psychic abilities, it would probably be a Squid Sister. “Besides, you have a bunch of Squid Sisters posters in yours.”

“That’s our brand, silly! I’m promoting us.”

“... You’re promoting our brand in your apartment?” Callie nods. “How many people do you bring to your apartment, exactly..?”

“That’s private, Marie! You don’t need to know.” Marie narrows her gaze. “I’m not telling~!”

“So you’re telling me you’re either a massive incel or a total slut?” she asks dryly.

“Neither! I’m neither..!” Callie waves her hands in front of her in the universal ‘Never mind!!’ gesture. “And you know, you’re one to talk... Our emails are synced, so I keep getting messages talking about your online purchases, and I’m sick of them! I don’t need to know about  _ that.” _

Marie’s face turns a dark lime. “Y... You’re shitting me, right?”

“Bruce,” Callie whispers with an overly-sharp grin.

Marie turns around and leaves the room.

“What was... That about?” Eight asks, cocking her head to the side.

Callie laughs a little to herself. “Nothing, nothing... So, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“No!” Eight says too hastily. “No, I don’t. Go ahead.”

“Do you remember what region you were from?” Oh, no. Eight already doesn’t like this question. “I mean, I heard your class used to be in Octo Ravine and Octo Valley.”

“... Ravine to Valley. I was a transfer.”

Callie nods slowly. “Mm, okay. You remember your squadron? I’ve just never seen one of you in the face, it’s amazing! All the Exterminations happened before I got there, which was super disappointing...”

The... Exterminations..?

“Exterminations?” Eight repeats. “I don’t... Remember those.”

“... Ah. Maybe that’s for the best, then.” Eight doesn’t like the name, either. She’d have to agree. “Well, still! Do you actually have rings, or is that just talking about jewelry?”

Eight flashes her rings blue for a second or two before letting them dim down again.

“Oh, that’s really cool..!” she gushes. 

“Um, if you... Don’t mind me asking, how do you know all of this, exactly?” Eight asks. “I didn’t think octolings were common knowledge here...”

“Around the time Three left for Kamabo, I got squidnapped to Octo Canyon.” ... Oh. “It wasn’t all bad, minus the brainwashing,” she says with a shrug.

“Are, um... Is that why your eyes are like that?”

“... No,” she replies. Her voice isn’t happy any longer. It seems void of everything, flat and dull. “It’s not.”

“... Oh. Um, sorry, then.”

Callie doesn’t respond.

Eight shifts where she stands. Fuck. She totally fucked up, didn’t she? God. Dammit.

“I’m, um... Gonna go check on Pearl, if that’s okay?”

Callie nods. “Sure,” she responds, though her voice isn’t as empty as before, but it isn’t anywhere close to how it seemed to normally be. “Have fun.”

She won’t!

Eight leaves and walks into the kitchen. Pearl and Marie are talking about... Something. More importantly... Food! It’s not often that Pearl actually gets into cooking, although she normally cooks each night. There’s a difference between doing something and, like,  _ really _ doing something, though. Don’t think about it too much.

“Hi,” she greets awkwardly and waves.

Pearl waves back. “Howdy, kid.”

“Kid..?” Marie repeats quietly. At a normal volume, she greets Eight again.

“What are you guys making?” she asks, walking over. Whatever it is, it smells good.

“It’s, uh... Stuff. We were just about to bring it out,” Pearl explains. Stuff. How wonderful. “Do you mind grabbing a plate? There’s just one there.”

Eight nods and takes it, following them out back into the dining hall.

“Oh shit,” Three says because she’s articulate.

“Indeed,” Four agrees because she’s something, adjectives are hard and Eight is running out of them. “Wait, is this what you were trying to help them with?”

“Maybe.”

“Oooh, Pearl, did you make those?” Callie asks, hands pressed to her face. She... Sounds normal again. Is it fake..? “They look great!”

“I helped,” is all Marie says when she sets down the plates.

“She can spit rhymes  _ and  _ cook? Why, what can’t she do!” Mr. Cuttlefish exclaims. Well, Pearl can’t ride a bike, nor can she properly do the laundry, but no one needs to know that...

“Hey, so, Eight,” Pearl starts, looking over her shoulder at her. “You wanna open gifts after you eat, or..?”

“I’d like to eat first.”

Pearl nods. “Hurry up, then. I... Have to go find Marina.”

“Check the garage!” Eight calls after her as she leaves the room.

Pearl only gives her a thumbs-up in a response.

... Dork.

* * *

 

Pearl and Marina rejoin the group halfway through eating. Marina smells vaguely like sweat, burning, and metal, which isn’t always a good combination. And, because that’s what Three smelled like the other day after the microwave was set aflame, Eight can only worry.

But Pearl doesn’t seem worried! And Marina doesn’t seem worried, either. And... That probably means Eight shouldn’t be worried, but the sight of the slightly-charred gift on the corner of the cleared-off table does make her a little nervous.

But still, it’s relatively uneventful. It’s, dare Eight say...  _ Nice. _ Ewugh. Look at Eight, admitting she likes spending time with her  _ friends. _ Gross!!

Pearl forced Four to sit between Three and Eight, though. Which was dumb. Other than that, it was nice.

“Oh, Three,” Pearl says, pointing her fork at Three as she talks. “I remembered my question.”

“... Which is?”

“Eh, it’s not for you but it’s about you, I guess. Eight!” Eight looks up. “Do you think tongue piercings are for sucking dick?”

What?

A series of green ripples pass through Three’s mantle. “Oh my god,” she says flatly. “You did not.”

“... I don’t know what that is,” Eight says. Or... No, she knows what the words mean, just... Not so much in that order. “Can you explain?”

Four quietly explains it to Eight in a semi-hushed voice. Eight accepts the knowledge into her life and now knows she will never be able to look at most people in this room the same way ever again.

“I don’t see how a piercing can specifically be for anything like that? I mean... I guess it has its uses, but... Why do you ask?”

“Three said they were.” Pearl crosses her arms. “And she’s  _ wrong.” _

“... You know Three  _ has _ a tongue piercing, right?”

Pearl’s eyes go wide. “No shit. You’re kidding, right?”

“Pearl, I think I would know best out of everyone in this room.” Eight casts a glance over at Three, whose mantle is constantly flaring with green as she holds her head in her hands. “Three..? Are you o-”

“Fucking peachy,” she responds in a tone filled with anguish, hatred, and mortification, otherwise known as the exact opposite of being ‘fucking peachy.’ “Thanks for asking.”

“... Aren’t you a lesbian, Three?” Callie asks. “Why..?”

“It- It’s not, like,  _ exclusively _ for cock, but...” Three groans into her hands. “Forget it. I hate all of you.”

“You know, this all hinges on the idea that Three actually gets any,” Marie says. “Which I  _ highly _ doubt.”

Three goes quiet.

“Can we please,” she starts, almost begging, “Move onto something else?”

“So that’s a no,” Marie replies with a snicker. “Didn’t expect much else.”

“I can change that?” Eight offers. Silence settles over the table save for the wet slap of Three turning into a squid.

“Oi, you’re gonna get ink everywhere!” Pearl snaps. Three does not budge. “Fucking hell...”

“You say that like you haven’t before,” Marina says. “Once I hugged you and you shifted-”

“YES, MARINA, THANKS-”

“- and landed right on my feet. You know, I didn’t think you were-”

“THAT’S WONDERFUL, REENA, CAN WE PLEASE-”

“- that heavy, but I ended up in a cast anyways...” She sighs, smiling fondly. “My precious Pearlie liked cake a little too much~!”

Pearl suddenly disappears beneath the table with another wet slap.

“Um,” Mr. Cuttlefish says, reminding everyone of his presence. “What in the squit just happened?”

“Don’t ask,” Four, Eight, Callie, Marie, and Marina all say in haunting unison.

He didn’t.

About ten minutes later, everyone had pretty much finished eating. Four and Marie were helping with dishes, much to Eight’s chagrin because  _ she _ wanted to help, dangit! Callie and Marina were talking enthusiastically about something. Pearl quickly found herself by Mr. Cuttlefish’s side as they caught up on things.

And that left Eight to deal with Three.

Wahoo.

It’s kind of cute how Three just... For lack of a better term,  _ breaks _ when Eight suggests anything vaguely, well... Suggestive. Still, isn’t this a little excessive? Ten minutes was... A while. And to imagine what Three’s reaction would have been if Eight was serious! She dreads that day...

“Hi, Three,” Eight mumbles as she sits down beneath the table. The table is too short - or Eight is too tall - to really fit Eight, so her head presses against the bottom of the table as she cranes her neck to sort of fit. “Are you doing alright..?”

Three doesn’t respond. Talking is hard when you are a squid.

Eight gently pokes at her leftmost tentacle. Five pokes, and Three curls the limb in towards herself. Eight pokes the other limb, and Three does the same thing.

Quietly, Eight laughs. “You’re cute, you know.”

Three’s entire body lights up pink. Ah... Maybe she said she wrong thing.

“... Can I get you to shift back?” Green! “Is that a no?” Three’s body flashes white once. “Is one flash yes?” Same response. “Is two no, then..?” Same response again. “Great. Why won’t you shift back?”

Three’s body remains neutral for a moment before flashing green. 

“Three, I hope you know I don’t speak colors.”

A horrible gurgling sound leaves Three’s mouth. All speech sounds like that when you speak in your cephalopod form. It’s a little unfortunate.

“I don’t speak broken toilet, either.” Three’s body flares white before she shifts back.

“... Go fuck yourself,” she mumbles, blushing.

“Yeah, I might have to, at this rate...” Three swats at her arm. “It’s the truth!”

“... What about the parent’s blessing shit? We’re not even a month in, you know..?”

“Rules exist to be broken!” Eight chirps. Three rolls her eyes. “Now, come on. People are waiting.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, crawling out from under the table after Eight.

“Oh, hey, you got her out!” Pearl says. Eight nods. “You know, I don’t even think you  _ need _ the first part of rule two anymore...”

“Yeah, honestly...” Eight agrees.

“I’ll go back under there,” Three threatens. “Don’t fucking test me.”

“Were you always so rude, young lady?” Mr. Cuttlefish asks. “You’re normally so well-mannered...”

Eight can just  _ tell _ Three’s trying to shift again, so she grasps her wrist firmly. The skin pulls when she tries, Three’s body getting jerked towards Eight, and she rapidly gives up. Eight lets go when Three tells her to go fuck herself again.

“With how often you say that, I’m starting to think you’d  _ like _ me to,” Eight mumbles. “Is that something you’d watch?”

“Eight,” Three warns, face a dark orange. “Please.”

Eight only laughs.

She stands up, holding out a hand to help Three up. Three takes it, quietly swearing beneath her breath.

“The others are where?” Three asks.

“Four and Marie are helping with dishes,” Eight explains. “After that, we’ll... I don’t know.”

“Gifts, obviously!” Marina chimes in.

“I hope you like mine..!” Callie coos beneath her breath.

“I’m sure I will..!”

At least... She hopes she does.

* * *

 

Not long after, Marie and Four finished washing the dishes. For some reason, Marie seemed to be blushing a little... Which really begs the question, what did they  _ do _ to those poor plates? Eight can’t ask. Eight can’t know. Much the arcane knowledge of sucking dick, it is probably something Eight wishes she didn’t know.

... But really, maybe Eight should go in there and inspect the plates...

“So, um... How do I do this, exactly?” Eight asks. “Is there, like, an order, or something..?”

Pearl shrugs. Thank you, Pearl. “Not really, but Marina said she wanted you to opens her last.”

“... Okay.” Given that some of the wrapping is burnt, that’s probably a good choice. “Does anyone want theirs to be opened first, or..?”

Eight receives a whole lot of silence. Chilled legumes, Eight always wanted to die anyways.

“Mine, I guess,” Three finally says. “I mean, only if you want, but...”

Pearl, who’s standing right next to the cleared-off table, looks over the gifts. “Which one is it?”

“Poorly wrapped,” Three tells her. Pearl finds it immediately.

Pearl hands it to Eight. Eight puts it on the table to open it. It tips a little but doesn’t completely topple. Eight still wonders how Three managed to make a cube rounded.

“Do I just... Go for it?” Pearl nods. “... Okay.” 

Eight peels the tacky bow off the gift and can’t find anywhere to stick it, so she just sets it on the table. Four snatches it and loudly slaps it against Three’s face. That... Had to hurt.

“Are you..?”

“Just open it,” Three tells her. The bow falls off her cheek, revealing an orange patch where Four slapped her. Yeesh... 

Eight peels the paper off delicately, but finds that to be difficult because the wrapping is done is poorly. Eventually, she gets it off, and...

“It’s a box,” she states.

“Open the box,” Three demands.

“Do you need a knife?” Pearl asks.

“Please do not give Eight a knife,” Marina pleads.

“She has claws, right..?” Callie wonders.

“They might break,” Marie replies.

“Octarian claws are squiddin’ tough!” Mr. Cuttlefish cries. “Open the box!”

Eight slices the tape open and then opens the box.

“Oh?”

“Oh,” Three repeats, furrowing her brow. “What does ‘oh’ mean?”

“It’s a  _ friend!” _ she breathes, gently picking up the contents of the box.

It’s a somewhat small dinosaur plush, with soft red fabric. It has two little black beads for eyes and Eight can feel some small pellet-y thingies in its stomach.

“I, uh... Got it for you since I remembered you’re, like, some sort of fucking dinosaur nerd, which is a really dumb thing to be a nerd about but, you know, I thought that, uh, you’d, y’know, like it, at least..?” Three stammers, blushing. Her eyes search Eight’s face for some sort of confirmation.

“I love him,” Eight states. “He is a wonderful friend.”

Three lets out a laugh that is  _ absolutely _ a giggle, no matter what anyone says. “I’m... Happy you like it.”

“Thank you, Three!! He’s perfect!” Eight gently nudges the plush aside so its not in the way but still able to watch. Now all Eight needs is a name...

Pearl grabs the next box - the large one, Four’s. When Eight takes it, it’s lighter than she thought it would be. Hm... Interesting.

The wrapping paper is a lot easier to remove than Three’s, but that probably has more to do with the fact that Four wrapped it correctly than anything else.

“Why are you removing it so nicely?” Marie asks. “You’re just gonna end up throwing it out...”

“Uh, to use it again?” Three replies as if it’s obvious.

“Is that why your wrapping looked so bad?” Callie laughs. “It’s not even expensive, Three.”

“It adds  _ charm,” _ she snaps.

“Actually, it just makes you look like a cheapskate, but potato, potato, I guess,” Marie says dryly. Three does the middle finger thing again. “Wow. Our finest agent, huh?”

“You know it.”

Inside Four’s gift is... Yet another box! Except this one is easy to open. Eight just takes the lid off it, and... Oh!! It’s a jacket, black, with a bone pattern on it, as if Eight had a skeleton.

“You said you didn’t have any jackets,” Four explains. “And you liked the inkling skeleton a lot, so...”

Eight slips it on. It’s comfy, with a soft inner lining, and...  _ Pockets. _ What a wonderous thing..!

“That was really nice of you, Four,” she says with a smile. “Thank you!”

“It’s... It’s nothing,” she dismisses, although Eight swears she sees her blush. “It fits, right?”

“It’s a little loose, but I like it like that.” Four nods, content.

The next gift is the largest one of all, wrapped nicely in pink paper. In somewhat messy - though still legible - handwriting is “From Cap’n Cuttlefish”.

Eight opens it as gingerly as the rest. It’s in a box, much like how Three’s plush was, and Eight opens it the same way. Inside it is...

“Is this a Bamboozler?” Eight asks, gingerly holding up the weapon.

“Not  _ any _ Bamboozler... But an authentic one from the Great Turf War!” He holds up his own for Eight to compare it to. “That once belonged to an old friend of mine, but I have no use for it. There’s no use in holding onto the past these days...”

Eight gently turns the weapon around in her hands. It’s hand-fashioned, not like the replicas sold in Ammo Knights, with a few stickers half peeled off around the shaft. Some ink around the tip had seeped in, staining the rim of it with orange. On the handle, etched in crudely, are the initials D.R. next to S.B.S. Eight assumes the S.B.S. stands for Squidbeak Splatoon, which means D.R. had to stand for...

Mr. Cuttlefish’s old friend.

“You’re really giving me this?” Eight asks. It almost feels sacred, in a way, as if she’s simply holding a piece of history. “... Why?”

“I told you, lassie, I’ve no need for it nowadays. Perhaps you can get some use out of it, if anything?”

“... Thank you,” she tells him, although she’s still unsure as to where she should put the weapon. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“Why, I hope so!” He shifts in his seat.

Next up is a small black bag with “From: Marie” written on a tag hanging off the handle. Crammed in beneath it is “+ Callie!!”

“Um, Callie?”

“Hm?”

“What’s in the pink bag there, then?”

“Open that in private, okay?” she tells her with a smile. It’s as sickeningly sweet as the rest, but it makes Eight’s blood run cold.

Eight nods and pulls a few clumps of tissue paper out from the bag. In it are... A few things.

The first thing is a lanyard with some sort of card hanging off it. It reads ‘Squid Sisters’, and that’s all the context she gets.

“This is..?”

“A backstage pass for our concerts,” Marie helpfully explains. “I figured you’d appreciate it.”

Eight does.

“That’s... That’s really cool,” she breathes. Eight can see the Squid Sisters perform... She can see them  _ backstage... _

**_Oh my god..._ **

“There’s more! There’s mooore.” Callie’s leaned in over the table, propping her head up with her hands. “C’mooon.”

“Callie, come on,” Marie says.

“What? Like you’re not excited too?”

Eight hears Four chuckle at that.

Next is... Ooh, are those CDs? Eight looks them over, and sure enough, they are! Ah, but... Eight already  _ has _ all of the Squid Sisters CDs-

“They’re signed,” Marie again explains. “Collector’s item.”   
**_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO._ **

**_thats cool_ **

And lastly is... A slip of paper with two different series of numbers on them.

“Our phone numbers!” Callie cheers. “Since you seem cool and we want to get to know you more.”

Eight thinks she has ascended today. Or died, or reached enlightenment, or something cool along those lines. Maybe she’s living a dream. Maybe that’s why Eight  **now has the Squid Sisters’ phone numbers** **_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA._ **

“I- Wow,” Eight says because she is articulate and smart. “You... Thank you. Thank you both, a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” Marie replies. “Just consider it thanks. For... Saving the world, and, uh... Making sure Gramps didn’t die.”

_ (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa) _

Pearl staggers over with a large box and sets it down on the table with a grunt.

“That one’s mine, kid,” she says with a grin.

... Given by the over-the-top pink wrapping paper absolutely covered with ribbon, Eight could have guessed.

Eight tears off the paper because she already knows there’s no way to open it nicely. Inside of it are... Books?

“Cookbooks, since you’ve been interested in cooking lately... Oh, and, uh, I got you some new headphones, since you said your old ones broke?” Pearl... Actually remembered..!

Eight pulls her into a hug. Pearl grunts a little because Eight probably hugged too hard but does Eight care? No!! Take that, Pearl. Eight’s going to kill you.

With  _ love. _

Hahaha!

“Guess that means you like it?” she asks. Eight nods. “Cool. I’m happy you do.”

“It’s mine now, right?” Marina asks. There are only two gifts left on table - the slightly charred one and the sparkly pink bag from Callie. Eight nods. “I’ll get it, then. I don’t want Pearl to hurt herself.”

She gets up and grabs the box, handing it to Eight.

It’s small, but it’s pretty heavy, which surprises Eight a bit.

“Open it!” she urges. Eight sets it down on the table first.

Gingerly, she tears through the paper and pulls it off, setting it aside. Beneath all that paper is...

“A box?” It certainly seems like a box. Not even a cardboard box, but a solid metal chunk. Or, no, there’s some indents in it in a pattern of sorts, but... It looks like metal. “Marina..?”

Marina rolls her eyes and presses the small silver button atop the cube.

It opens.

Inside it is a small skyline of Inkopolis Harbor. The skyscrapers are made of a dark, shiny metal and they’re reflected on the dark blue glass that’s supposed to be the water. Mirrors raise up from the sides of the cube that now lay flat, reflecting light between them and creating...

A sunrise.

On top of that, a familiar jingle starts to play. Eight instantly recognizes it as  _ Into the Light, _ though it sounds like a music box rendition of the song.

Eight loves it.

“Do you like it?” Marina asks.

Eight responds by crushing her in a hug.

“Thank you,” she breathes, blinking back tears. “It’s perfect.”

* * *

 

The rest of the party goes well. Pearl made cake that wasn’t flavoured like some awful condiment (which is all of them, all condiments are bad, change Eight’s mind) and it was actually good. They jammed some candles in it and offered to sing, but Eight didn’t really understand why they were offering because it was October 5th and Eight’s birthday was January 27th, but whatever!

Everyone had left by 8:30, though.

Eight had just thrown on some clothes after showering, hearing Three’s voice in her head begging for her to put something on.

But yeah...

Today was nice. Really nice.

Firstly, Eight got to meet TWO ENTIRE SQUID SISTERS. And then Eight got STUFF from **TWO ENTIRE SQUID SISTERS.** **_AAAAAAAAAAAAA_** and such.

Secondly, Eight got to spend time with her friends!!! Which is really nice, honestly. It’s hard to get them all in one place like that.

And, well, maybe this is just an extension of point two, but Eight has never felt so  _ loved. _ It’s... Amazing.

Three’s dinosaur plush (Eight’s  _ beautiful son and friend _ ) sits beside her on her bed. Mr. Cuttlefish’s friend’s Bamboozler is currently just sitting on her desk, but she plans to put it on the wall like how they do with swords in the movies. Only, it’s a lot easier to kill with a Bamboozler than a sword. Bamboozlers are more  _ pew pew! _ and swords are more  _ slicey slice..!!!!, _ and it’s common knowledge that  _ pew pew! _ is more efficient in the death department than the  _ slicey slice..!!!! _

That’s also why rollers suck, but whatever!! Not important.

Eight looks over at the pink bag sitting on her desk. She’s yet to open it... And Callie said to open it in... Private.

Forgive Eight’s mind for immediately going to the gutter.

She pushes herself off her bed, walking over and picking up the bag. Should... Should she open it..?

... Might as well, right..?

Eight pulls out a wad of tissue paper. What’s the point of stuffing it with paper, anyways..? The surface is dumb and confusing and-

There’s something shiny there..?

Gingerly, Eight pulls the object out.

It looks like... A toothpick, though it’s heavy. It’s metallic, catching the light nicely - wait, is this solid gold? No, not solid, but... Plated, right?

Sheesh... Where did Callie even get this..?

At the bottom of the bag is a scrap of pale pink paper covered in black writing. Next to it is... A flashdrive. What..?

Eight pulls the paper out.

Oh, wait, this is- This is  _ Octarian, _ what..? Callie knows Octarian? That’s... Odd. It’s written fluidly too, as if it was her native tongue. It doesn’t use the older, outdated letters that Pearl uses when she writes, as if she was learned the language as it was now and not how it was one-hundred years ago...

Eight reads the first line and feels a chill race down her back.

_ Dear Lucille -- _

_ Congratulations on finally making it to the surface! I’m sure the journey here was quite difficult. I’ve only heard about everything secondhand, but it seems you had to be quite brave to make it here! Thank you, really. _

_ There’s a lot about you that’s odd, y’know? You’re Class BR, from the Valley, no less - so you should definitely, definitely be dead! The Exterminations weren’t kind, after all. Octarian society isn’t very kind, but I’m sure you knew that. You of all people would know, after all... _

_ This toothpick here was often worn by high-ranking officials. I managed to snag one, though it was pretty filthy when I first got it. I cleaned it the best I could, but I think there still might be some blood in the scratches. Sorry. _

_ I’ve got connections, I guess - I paid this one guy a ridiculous amount for the files of everyone in your squadron. That’s what’s on the flashdrive, by-the-by. Everyone that was in your squadron, I guess. Most of them have TERMINATED as their status, sorry to say, but you’re one of the exceptions. _

_ There’s this other octoling with a status marked as UNKNOWN. Their name’s Hanale. They’re a few years older than you, but they were the Captain. The chances are slim, but... Maybe you could find them again. I mean, if you got to Inkopolis... What’s stopping them, right? _

_ I don’t know. _

_ Anyways, I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done again. I wouldn’t be here if not for you!! _

_ \-- Callie. _

Files, she... She has files of her squadron, of people she knew, of- They’re dead, aren’t they? That’s what the Exterminations were? Oh, no, no no no no no,  _ fuck, _ Eight didn’t- Eight didn’t  _ want _ to remember, she didn’t need to, she...

Eight grabs the flashdrive and shoves the Bamboozler aside, not caring if it gets damaged.

Eight... She needs to know. Not as Eight, but... But as Lucille. The soldier she isn’t any longer.

**BR 06 - TERMINATED**

**C. HANALE - 0526 /./ STATUS: UNKNOWN**

**CYNTHIA - 0429 /./ STATUS: TERMINATED**

**LUCILLE - 0117 /./ STATUS: UNKNOWN**

**OLIVIA - 0417 /./ STATUS: TERMINATED**

**ASHLEY - 0527 /./ STATUS: TERMINATED**

Eight wishes she feels something when she sees these names. She wishes she feels something when she reads their dossiers, when she sees their ages.

But she doesn’t.

Eight doesn’t remember them, she doesn’t know who they are, she just...

Eight feels sick.

She hates the Octarians. She hates Callie. But most of all, she hates herself.

She should care. She should, she should, but she doesn't.

Despicable.

A small message appears in the corner of her screen from Three: ‘are you free tomorrow we might be able to grab coffee’. Eight slams her laptop shut without responding.

(That night, Eight dreams of her old squadron. She dreams of Hanale teaching her how to use splatlings with a smile. She dreams of Cynthia quietly asking her to bring her weapon polish. She dreams of Olivia chastising her for thinking Octotroopers are cute. And she dreams of little Ashley, toddling behind her chirping _ “Wucy” _ because she liked Eight the most.)

(Eight wants to forget.)

(Eight can’t ever forget.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look. callie is sort of ooc here but canon is my bitch and it does what i want. also i have no idea how to write craig forgive me OTL  
> fun fact: 8 was originally going to name the brontosaurus plush crotch goblin in octarian, but i decided against it. he doesnt actually have a name, now that i think about it, so i guess he still is crotch goblin, in a way.


End file.
